


The Art of Decay

by RobinFate



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Emma Swan, Eventual Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, F/F, Jealous Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Multi, Post-Underworld (Once Upon a Time), Storybrooke, Swan-Mills Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2018-11-19 22:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11323077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinFate/pseuds/RobinFate
Summary: Post Robin's death. Consumed by grief, Regina turns to the powerful aid of magic in order to ease the pain. However, all magic comes with a price and what Regina doesn't know, is that she isn't the only one paying. When a simple spell takes a slight wrong turn, Emma and Henry are left to pick up the pieces. SWAN QUEEN.





	1. My Good Friend Grief

**Author's Note:**

> Post Underworld.  
> The story begins shortly after Robin's death, kicking off with a flashback and moving straight to his funeral. There are minor adjustments to the original sequence of events; for example, at the time of Robin's funeral, the town of Storybrooke already knows about Hook's return.  
> This one's been hiding in my desktop folder for some time now and I finally brought up the courage to post it! I would love to hear your feedback! There's more to come so I hope you enjoy!! xx -R.F.

_“Regina, ” he said, barely able to push the word out. He was too weak, too feeble to speak as he lied sluggishly in her arms._

_She held him tightly, clenching every muscle that could assist her, but still, he was slipping through her fingers._

_So she held tighter._

_Somehow hope that he would remain alive still burned. Or flickered…she didn't know. But it was there. And it was the only thing she had._

_“Regina…look at me,” Robin begged, knowing he didn’t have much time._

_But she couldn't. She couldn't dare look him in the eye. So Regina clenched harder, bowing her head in shame instead._

_It should have been her. She was the target, she was wanted dead, but he_ _shielded her—like any brave man would—from death’s touch and willingly took the hit._

_“You’ll be okay,” he consoled her, even though that’s what she should have been doing for him. But her lips had betrayed her and remained clamped shut, almost as firmly as she held his body to hers. It was her turn to shield him._ _Though even her shield, powerful as it may be, was no match for the fate coming for him. Because his breaths became uneven and she watched him struggle while his trembling hand reached for her face, stroking her cheek with a feather-light touch for the last time._

_“Find…” he breathed, unable to finish his sentence. And that is what made Regina’s eyes flicker up to his, catching the distinct shimmer she was all too familiar with. The shimmer that frequently made her lips curl into a sheepish grin._

_Not this time though._

_He gave her a weak smile, never breaking his gaze even when Regina tore hers away. She curled her mouth into a thin line, tasting the salt from her wet, quivering lips before meeting his eyes once more._

_“…Love again,” were his last words, his last breath, his dying wish._

_His lids slowly fell, blanketing the ocean-blue eyes in which she never thought she'd see the last. And shortly after, so did Regina. She hurled over him, refusing to let go, strengthening her grip even though deep down, she knew there was nothing left. He had already slipped through her hold, no matter how tight._

_Hope faded from within her, blown out like a flame that burned on its wick._

_And hope was gone._

_He…was gone._  

* * *

 

She keeps herself together, despite the tears clouding her vision, despite her son engulfing her in his skinny arms, despite Robin’s body lying underneath the hood of the varnished, oak casket. Yes, even with all this, Regina’s composure is still in effect.

She makes sure it is.

Because displaying her emotions, laying them out there for all to see, it’s not an option. Being vulnerable is not an option. She’s a queen dammit. So she plasters on a brave face, and her walls stay up, maybe even soaring a bit higher than before. But the cloak of confidence she wears does little to assuage the raging storm that floods her gut.

The guilt gnaws at everything in her, chipping away piece by piece. And while unshed tears fill her lids, glossing over chocolate-brown eyes, the emptiness inside her continues to grow. It should be her.

The heavy drops of rain patter on the roof of her umbrella distract her for just a moment. But her eyes still burn through the casket, staring directly at the arrows and handpicked, red roses delicately placed on top.

Regina can’t find it in herself to speak, blood-red lips revolting once more. Just like that night. Only this time, the only thing she clenches onto with all her might is the arrow she has yet to place over the coffin. She’d hold onto it forever if she could, just like _he_ would her heart. And then she feels a pang in her chest as if the turmoil that boils inside her wasn't enough.

Zelena, before a few others, comes to offer her sympathies as she parts the ceremony and Regina manages to provide a slight nod in acknowledgment, her eyes never leaving the casket. For now, it's all she can handle. Even the slightest of movements made it harder to keep herself in one piece.

So she doesn’t move. She just breathes.

But even that becomes a difficult task since the thick, muggy air doesn’t slip in and out of her nose as freely as it should. And suddenly she feels like she’s choking, suffocated by unspoken words that sit agonizingly at the back of her throat.

Soon her vision is completely blurred by the desperate attempts of keeping her anguish locked away. And what were once people are now blobs of black and beige that slowly begin to leave the ceremony. Or flee maybe…because the cloak can only hide so much and people seem to notice the surging rage.

She can't blame them, though. It scares her to no end to think that there might still be a chance of reverting to her old, vile self. She would lose everything she's worked so hard for. Her son, her family (unconventional as it is but a family nonetheless), her friends, Regina could kiss them all goodbye.

It's a pat on the shoulder by Snow's gentle touch—which incidentally, cools her off to some degree—that tells her she is the last to leave. Finally, Regina stands alone in front of what will be his final resting place. No prying eyes, no one to watch her let go.

And then her walls sink to the ground. The cloak dissipates, the violent storm inside her erupts and sobs burst through her lids as though a damn had just ruptured.

It’s all too real now that the smell of freshly dug earth becomes prominent in the air. It hangs over her like a neon sign, flashing at her…reminding her of the sole reason for this mess; herself. 

A part of Regina though, can’t figure out what she’s truly feeling. Is it remorse? A feeling of liability? Guilt? _Or_ is it pain from the loss of a man she loved? She can't tell. But she's also not in any state to think straight, and the arrow she strangles in her fist doesn't help with making anything clearer.

Grief is a curious process.

Robin was normally the one to defog her brain in times like this. But now he’s just a memory, a chapter in her life that has come to a tragic end and she has to turn the page. She has to  _Find love again._ It was Robin's dying wish.

But it's easier said than done. It all is. Moving on, accepting a loss, becoming stronger, resisting the urge to rip everyone's throat out, _finding love_ …

Easier said than done.

Loving Regina is not the difficult part. It’s loving the evil queen along with her. Loving _all_ of Regina, good and bad. And besides Robin, she can’t think of anyone who might be able to handle that darkness, someone who is willing to accept that part of her. Except maybe there _is_. There’s—

She feels a light squeeze on her arm. _For the love of God._ Couldn’t she get at least _one_ minute of privacy in this ridiculously dimwitted town?

It is only her eyes that wander down to the source, catching a short glimpse of bare, slender fingers that hold her tenderly, before darting them right back up. There’s only one person who has yet to give Regina their respects, and she happens to be standing right beside her.

She shrugs the woman’s hand off her arm. There was something about her touch that was almost… _comforting_? Which would be fine really, if she hadn’t wanted to melt in the woman’s arms like a piece of chocolate would in her mouth.

She shakes the delusional, yet oddly stimulating thought away from her frazzled mind. “Emma please, I’ve had enough people feeling sorry for me today.”

“I know,” she nods affectionately but remains at Regina’s side. She can practically feel the heat from Emma’s searing gaze.

Regina closes her eyes and sucks in a deep breath before opening them again. Breathing becomes easier. Only in the slightest of ways, but it's progress, progress made by a gesture as simple as a squeeze on the arm. It's alarming though, how Snow's similar expression didn't have the same effect. Grief was strange that way…

“So why are you here?” Regina asks. She doesn't mean to sound unappreciative, but it comes out that way. So Regina turns around, hoping glassy eyes and tear-stained cheeks would contradict her tone.

A tight-lipped smile is what comes to Regina's attention before anything else—because, for reasons she can't understand, her gaze always lands on the woman's lips before meeting blue-green eyes. And they're not quite the ocean-blue that she's accustomed to but it wears a familiar shimmer. A shimmer that makes her head tilt in wonder because it's the same one _he—_ grief makes people see the strangest things.

“You need a friend Regina.”

“What I _need_ is to be alone,” she grinds out while turning back to the casket. But still, the blonde’s eyes pierce through her, and she feels a slight tingle ripple through her when Emma takes a small step closer.

Nothing is said, but Emma doesn't leave. She stands next to the lifeless, shell of a body that is Regina's and looks down at the coffin with her. If she's honest, Regina is grateful for the stubbornness that resides within the blonde. It plays a large role in her annoyingly constant need to help others even when they so clearly want nothing other than to revel in self-pity. But her words didn’t mirror the thoughts in Regina’s mind and admitting her gratitude out loud was something else entirely. Her pride would let her do no such thing.

_You’ll be okay._

 

 _Yeah right._ Regina doesn't believe that. Love had been ripped from her reach too many times. She had seen death too often to be anywhere near _okay._ Daniel, her father, her mother and now…Robin…all passed away with one thing in common: _Regina_ being the last thing they had set eyes upon. And she watched—her face stricken with horror—the life wash away from each of their eyes. It’s an awful sight that haunts her each day.

And then she feels a hand graze over hers. Emma’s hand. It's the faintest of touches, but it brings Regina back from the dreadful memories. That alone surprises her. No one, not even Robin, has ever been able to liberate her from those dark moments so quickly. She even finds a bit of solace in the small token of companionship, but then again, grief made one look for solace in everything.

So she shakes it off, gripping the arrow with so much force her knuckles turn a ghostly white. It’s then that frustration overwhelms her because holding the damned thing and all its significance, all the space it occupies in her heart, doesn’t ease her torment the way that— _It’s the grief talking._

It's not long before Emma's fingers curl over her balled fist, and they now hold the arrow together.

But Regina’s hand doesn’t surrender. If she did, if she _was_ to let go of the arrow, it meant that this was all real, that Robin had sacrificed his life for hers. Letting go of that arrow…it would only mean that she was letting go of Robin.

Emma tugs their hands a little, walking Regina up to the coffin until they are at arm's length away.

A soft-spoken voice reaches Regina’s ears.

“Together,” the blonde nods.

She turns to Emma, eyes wide with defeat, and finds sympathy etched on the woman's face. Frankly, she meant it when she said she was tired of people feeling sorry for her. But Regina doesn't call her out on it because Emma was right. Regina needs a friend right now and the woman beside her well…she's something of the sort. Their relationship is complicated, to say the least.

Never _just_ friends…never anything more.

So she nods—because she doesn’t have enough strength to do anything else—and Emma delicately guides her hand toward the coffin.

Their hands hover over the casket, Regina’s reluctance keeping her stiff.

She can’t do it.

But thankfully Emma does nothing to rush her; she leaves her hand over Regina’s and waits in silence.

Her fist trembles under Emma's, and suddenly their eyes lock like magnets.  

“You’ll be okay,” she promises with the slightest of smiles.

_Maybe._

And there it was again. The shimmer. The one Regina thought she would see for the final time when Robin had last set eyes on her.

But she’s grieving. It’s normal to look for similarities of a lost loved one in someone else.

Something flickers in her chest, like a stubborn car engine that needs to be ignited a few times before it roars to life.

Hope.

It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. And it allows Regina to loosen her grip around the arrow, letting it fall to the tip of her fingers. She lowers their hands by an inch, beseeching eyes never leaving Emma’s. Then a bit more, until the varnished wood with a smooth finish meets her fingertips.

Holding her breath, she closes her eyes.

And she lets go. _They_ let go. Together.

Her shaky hand still hovers over the coffin until Emma’s fingers slip through her own and gradually pulls their hands away. Regina squeezes back, probably harder than she had intended too, and exhales deeply.

She feels the loss immediately when Emma gently retrieves her hand to give her a reassuring squeeze. However, the slight pressure on her shoulder isn't what grabs her attention. No, it's the cold air whirling around her palm where there was once warmth, where there was hope, where Regina could swear there was more than a friendly affection.

 _Grief._ _It’s the grief._

But now her walls grow higher than a bean stock ever could. And suddenly there’s this urgent need to protect herself from everything she’s been feeling since Emma decided to make an appearance. There’s this fear that maybe it isn’t the grief, maybe it’s—

She turns away from the blonde, leaning her head back to keep the pool of tears from escaping her lids. “Please leave.”

“I’m staying.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” she snarls, shooting Emma one of her best evil queen glares. Suddenly it’s brewing inside her again—the darkness—and she doesn’t feel the need to suppress it like before. She needs to look out for herself and shutting people out is the best way she knows how.

"Regina I'm staying. I'm here for you," she ensures, keeping her hands up at her side like she means no harm. And she almost sounds sincere, but Regina won't allow herself to fall for it.

“Why don’t you go and snuggle up to your precious pirate,” she drawls. “I’d imagine he’d want to spend every minute with you after—what is it? The third time he dies?”

“Regina please, I just want what’s best for you.”

“And I don’t need your pity,” Regina snaps.

But Emma doesn’t move.

The gratitude Regina had for the blonde's stubborn attitude quickly changes into aggravation. It shows too because she feels the pulsing vein on her forehead protruding.

Apparently, Emma doesn't get the hint. She huffs like a toddler who isn't getting their way and even makes it a point to plant her feet firmly into the ground. "I'm not leaving. If you want to go, I'll take you home, but I won't leave you alone."

Regina plasters on a malicious smile, every bit as wicked and corrupt as she intends it to be. "That's fine dear. If you won't leave—" she steps closer, invading Emma's personal space. "—then _I will.”_

Before Emma could even fight against it, a cloud of purple smoke surrounds Regina at the twirl of her finger. And along with the intoxicating haze that swirls around her, she vanishes into thin air.

           

* * *

 

It’s the morning after Robin’s funeral. There’s an open bottle of tequila on the floor, at least a dozen crumpled up tissues, one empty shot glass, oh and a splitting headache that makes Regina want to hurl. It’s as though an army of sugar-hungry children beat her brain like a helpless piñata. And just when she thinks it can’t get any worse, she sits up. _Christ._

Regina's body feels like there's a weight attached to every limb and the bubbling alcohol in her stomach is about to make its way to the back of her throat. She rubs her temples in a circular motion in hopes of soothing her migraine, but it renders utterly useless. She may as well just grab a stick and whack the damned piñata herself.

This is all Emma’s fault.

Regina wouldn't have locked herself up in her vault for the night if it weren't for her. She wouldn't have drowned herself in cheap tequila either, but that isn't something she wants to explore. It would take far too much time to sort out her feelings right now.

Instead, Regina uses that time to bring order back to her mess of a vault. And while she’s at it, her hair could use some as well…maybe even her clothes.

Okay, everything. Everything needs order.

So that's what Regina does. She cleans. The floor, the coffee table, the mirror, the daybed, Regina cleans everything. She needs a distraction. Thinking about Robin put far too much weight on her chest. But when Emma came to mind, that weight lifted right off, floating away like a feather in the wind.  

And _that_ is why she is currently on her hands and knees, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, scrubbing away spilled, sticky alcohol and picking up tear-damp tissues. To hell with composure.

 _Ugh._ Grief is exhausting.

 

* * *

 

In a crisp white blouse, a freshly ironed pair of slacks and her favorite trench coat, Regina makes her way to Mary-Margret’s house. While Emma had conducted her little search party, apparently inspecting every corner of Storybrooke for Regina’s location, Henry had spent the night with the Charmings.

Eighty-six text messages and twenty-eight voicemails from the blonde had told her so—among other things.

It's quite silly if you ask her. There’s only one place Regina goes to for peace. Her vault. It’s her haven, her hideout; everyone knows that. No phone service, no unwanted intruders, just Regina and her thoughts.

So after practically sterilizing the damn place, she quickly changed into a more suitable outfit—because the one she slept in was fairly wrinkled and just simply would not do—and now, after reading every missed text and listening to every single voicemail, she struts with as much confidence as she can towards the Charmings’ apartment.

Walls high. Poise reinstated because now, eyes slice through her like she’s a piece of raw meat.

Car engines rumble, soft wind rustles through fallen leaves and there’s a faint drilling sound from down the street. But the noise rapidly fades as her sense of hearing becomes monopolized by one thing.

Whispers.

The suppressed murmurs come from every direction. Everyone speaks in hushed tones, doing little to conceal their painfully obvious focus on her, but no one has the audacity to speak directly _to_ her. Figures. The spineless cowards wouldn’t even greet her on a good day. But they do however continue to blatantly stare at her with furrowed brows as if she’s a felon who’s been wrongfully released.

Her head sinks beneath her shoulders. Typically this type of behavior doesn't comply with Regina. Normally she'd have a fireball at hand, ready to launch it at anyone who looks at her the wrong way. But Regina needs to think about Henry. She needs to think about all she has to lose if the evil queen in her returns to the throne. So she lets them be, ill-bred and craven as they are.

At least the piñata party in her head begins to subside. But it does nothing to alleviate the ache in her chest, which could not have decided to emerge at a worse time. She just wishes for Robin to be at her side. She wishes for her true love to magically reappear, to liberate her from the restraining eyes that still flash in her direction and from the prejudice undertones that are being spewed along with it. She wishes for—

Fast-paced footsteps, hammering loudly against the concrete snatches her attention away from the muttering buffoons. It's almost like this person is running, like this person is running towards her. Dull thuds on the ground intensify from behind, and Regina's stance becomes more defensive if not downright rigid.

She freezes the moment she steps past Mr. Gold’s Pawnshop, her shoulders tense with fear. And then a familiar voice yells angrily at the developing crowd of people whose gazes never leave Regina. “Don’t you people have some place to be? Things to do? Here’s an idea, why don’t you all scram and mind your own goddamn business. Regina is not some zoo animal for you to irk and prod at!”

It’s then that Regina’s shoulders instinctively drop with relief. She turns around to find whom other than— _no._

“Found you,” Emma pants with a genuine smile, clearly having difficulty catching her breath but content with her success nonetheless.

The blonde’s coincidental turn up was exactly that. Coincidental. The wish she made meant absolutely nothing. Besides, wishes don’t come true…especially not hers.

“So you did,” Regina says dryly. And sure enough a subtle grin tugs at her lips when the small, prying hoard of people slowly disperse. But she quickly subdues it before Emma could notice. Allowing it would mean she was letting the blonde back in. And bringing down those walls, granting Emma the access to all her erratic emotions, well…it’s not going to happen. Emma needs to stay out for Regina’s sake, for her own sake.

So Regina nods her head farewell at the smiling blonde, preventing her own lips from cracking into one, and turns away. She swallows hard before taking a step forward. But before her heel hits the ground, Regina is pulled back by a firm grasp at the elbow.

"Regina wait," Emma calls out, never letting go of her hold on Regina's arm. Her tone drowns so with an affliction so dark that Regina wants to abandon all attempts at pushing her away.

But she can’t. And she tries so hard to shove it all down but the tequila from last night won’t have it.

Regina winces in discomfort from the churn in her stomach, seemingly adding to the profound concern that already veils over Emma.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” the blonde asks inquisitively.

She ducks her head down as she wraps her arms around her stomach, allowing Emma’s hand to glide down to her own. “I’m fine.”

But ‘fine’ doesn’t mean _fine_ and Regina’s words once again don’t match up to the mix of emotions that clutter her. Because for the fourth time, she had to watch a loved one die right before her eyes. Because every time she thought she was happy, life had to rip it all apart. Because when she should be mourning Robin, she finds herself drifting closer to Emma, wanting nothing more than to spill every ounce of what she’s feeling.

Maybe she can. Maybe she can let Emma climb over those walls. And just before the voice in her head could advise her against it, her gaze meets parted pink lips. Then it moves up to glossy eyes that glaze with compassion.

The ache in her chest is replaced by something much more soothing. A warm feeling, like she’s stepping into the sun after being in the shade for so long. It blossoms through her and makes Regina’s heart flutter like a butterfly does its wings.

 Hope re-surfaces. Hope that maybe she _will_ be okay, that perhaps there _is_ a chance at finding love again.

 And suddenly, the idea of telling Emma everything doesn’t seem so ludicrous anymore. It’s a split second decision that has her hoping to God that her lips don’t do what they’re so famous for and remain glued together. She’s going to do it. Consequences be damned.

So, with her head held high and complete disregard for all the many reasons as to why she shouldn’t do this, Regina clears her throat. “Emma I—“

“Swan! There you are!”

They both tear apart, breaking their gaze to meet the source of their unpleasant interruption.

And there he was—dressed head-to-toe in cheap leather and revealing far too much chest for Regina’s liking while he prances over with a hook for a hand—Killian Jones.

He stops when he reaches Emma, placing a chaste kiss on her lips, which makes Regina wish _he_ were the piñata so she can whack him senseless. “I see you’ve found Regina.”

They share a quick glance before Regina rolls her eyes. “Look at you, stating the obvious. The underworld must have done quite a number on you.”

She can’t believe she was foolish enough to consider exposing herself to the blonde. What good would that have done?

Surely it was part of the grieving process. It had to be.

“It did more than I can say for Robin,” Killian shoots back at her.

Regina glares at the man, a look so deathly she could feel the hatred seep through her pores. His smug presence irritates every inch of her being. Heat begins to radiate from beneath her palms, and there's a fireball just about ready to spark with his name on it. But it’s Emma that curls Regina’s hands shut, holding them tightly at waist level.

“I know how hard this must be for you,” Emma says as she stands between her and Killian, probably hoping to defuse the tension but failing miserably.

Regina rips her hands out of Emma’s grasp and backs away defensively. “Actually no. You don’t. You have no idea how ‘ _hard_ ’ this is for me.” Frustration is evident in her tone. _Good._ But hurt and agony quickly step in and take the front seat. Her throat constricts in a way that makes it hard for her to speak. She pushes through it, her voice coming out hoarse and thick with emotion. “Your ‘ _true love’_ is here, arrogantly flaunting his return every chance he gets. And for what? Defeating Hades? Oh right, my _sister_ did that. A selfless sacrifice? No, wait, that was _Robin’s_ doing. As far as I’m concerned, you once again continue to get everything while I have to sit here and hope that maybe fate will eventually spare the lives of the people I love. So no Miss Swan, you haven’t got the slightest clue how I must be feeling and you never will.”

Killian reaches his hand out to Emma and pleads her to leave with him but the blonde, much to Regina’s surprise, swats his hand away. “Regina I know you’re angry—and you have every right to be—but I’m only trying to look out for you.”

Emma wears a defenseless look on her face, and Regina nods her head in disapproval, refusing to let herself be swindled by such mediocre tactics.

A venomous smile graces her blood-red lips. But as quickly as she masks her dismay, tears still threaten to spill. "And as I've said before, I don't need your pity, Miss Swan. I am very much capable of looking out for myself. After all, I've been doing it my whole life."

"I know you are. But it doesn't hurt to get a little help now and then. You have people who care about you now, people who want to support you. Regina you don't have to go through this alone. Let us help…let _me_ help,” Emma implores. She sounds every bit genuine too, even managing to take a small step closer without Regina noticing. And then she takes another.

They now stand face-to-face, gazes darting from lips to eyes, eyes to lips. There’s an almost undetectable hitch in Emma’s breathing when Regina inches her way closer. She may not notice much of what’s going on around her, Killian’s awkward _ahem_ for instance, but she does notice, for a third time now, the shimmer that lives in Emma’s eyes. And she looks at Regina the same way…the same way Robin does. _Did_. The same way Robin _did_.

It most likely means nothing. Emma feels sorry for her. There’s no other reason behind it.

But then pupils dilate, of this Regina is sure and now there's only one question floating in her mind. With her head tilted to the side and a frown sweeping over her brows, she asks with the utmost gravity she could muster, "Why _do_ you care so much anyway?”

And that’s when the fake, villainous smile returns. Space between them increases because Emma falters and looks down at her own two feet that begin to kick away at everything around her. With her hands buried deep in her pockets, she snaps her head back up to Regina. Uncertainty etched onto her face as she takes a moment before responding.

It's as though Emma is the one grieving now like they've switched places. Because looking at her, in the troubled state she seems to be in, is like looking in a mirror. It's like she's looking at her reflection. And for a moment Regina thinks that she might say—

“I…I just…” Emma hesitates.

“That’s what I thought,” Regina says sharply. “Take my advice from our last encounter Miss Swan, grab your one-handed wonder and stay out of my business. If Henry needs me, he’ll know where I’ll be.”

“Regina wait! You can’t just—“

But she’s gone before Emma could finish, consumed by purple smoke and transported to where she was earlier that day, where she always finds herself in difficult times like these.

She has a feeling this grief nonsense is going to pester her for a while.

 

**__ **


	2. Twenty-three Minutes and Fifty Seconds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who left kudos and lovely comments on my last chapter! It's your wonderful support that keeps me motivated so I really can't express how much it means to me! I hope you guys enjoy reading this next chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it :)  
> I do apologize if I've left any errors, as I may not have caught them all.   
> And without further ado, chapter 2! Enjoy!! xx -R.F.

Everyone knows that grief is unique to the person who experiences it. For some, coping with loss meant writing in a journal or seeking professional help or even burying their heartache underneath endless amounts of food, but for Regina, this wasn't the case. Regina is more of a curse-an-entire-realm type of griever. Emma knows it, her parents know it, hell, everyone in Storybrooke knows it‚ they were all victims of Regina's previous loss.

  
When Cora killed Daniel, Regina dedicated her entire life to avenge his death, torturing every living soul that stood in her path. Thankfully, Emma hadn't been there to witness it but based on the stories she's heard, living with a ruthless and merciless Regina was no walk in the park. The Regina in this land has evolved quite a bit from the Regina in the Enchanted Forest, but still, the fear that Robin's death may have pushed her off the scale is present within most.

  
The Evil Queen's potential return is the most talked about subject in Storybrooke.

  
Emma would be lying if she denied her concern about the issue. She knew Robin's passing alone wouldn't nudge Regina towards the darkness, but add Emma's newly revived pirate boyfriend into the mix, and things were bound to get messy.

  
But apparently, Regina didn't have to be in the equation at all. David, Mary-Margret, Henry, Zelena and Killian together in her parents' loft was trouble enough. Well, maybe not Henry because it's he and Emma who are caught in the crossfire from the heated argument that's taking place.

  
The two quietly sit side-by-side on wooden stools that surround the kitchen island, refusing to take sides in this family feud.

  
There's a loud thud across from them when Zelena smacks the palm of her hand against the head of the square dining table. "And you all call yourselves her friends? Have you no faith in her?"

  
"Zelena," Mary-Margret murmurs, sitting opposite from her. "Of course we have faith in her but‚ you don't know what she was like in the enchanted forest. I'm just worried."

  
Zelena rolls her eyes and leans back in her chair. "Worried," she sneers, crossing her arms. "She's human. Just let her grieve. That's the problem with you noble heroes; you can't just let things be as they are. There's always this incessant need to inject yourselves where you're not needed."

  
"If we just let her be, there's a chance she might give in to evil again. Just like she did with Daniel," David says with urgency. "Which is why we have to get her out of that vault and into her home."

  
"Or," Zelena suggests. "We don't do any of that. It's quite obvious she wants to be left alone. Otherwise, she wouldn't have sealed her vault with a protection spell."

  
Leaning on the metal staircase in the middle of the apartment, Killian lets out something between a laugh and a scoff. "Sounds like her majesty if you ask me."   
  
Zelena shoots up from her chair as though she's had enough, staring Killian dead in the eye with her fists clenched at her sides. "Well, thank goodness no one bloody asked you. You've got some nerve pirate, showing your face like you give a damn."

  
"See that's where you've got it wrong love," Killian drawls. "I don't give a damn. I'm only here for Swan."

  
"If I had a say, you wouldn't be here at all. In fact, I do believe the underworld is in search for a new leader. I'd be more than happy to send them a new prospect."

  
Killian angrily pushes himself off from the staircase. "Why you little–"

  
"Enough!" Henry demands as he quickly gets up from the stool beside Emma and positions himself between the two, spreading his arms out to the side to stop them from getting any closer. "That's enough. We all want the same thing, whether it's for my mom's well-being or someone else's." He looks at David and Mary-Margret. "I have no doubt in my mind that my mom will continue to fight the darkness because I believe in her and you all should too." Then he directs his attention to Zelena. "And while I do think she should have time to mourn Robin, I just want her to come home."

  
Emma feels a tug at her chest when his bright eyes flash at her through the beaming sunlight. There's desperation in the way he looks at her like she's the sole person who can do just that; bring Regina home.

  
"Henry is right," Emma steps in, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. "Instead of focusing on whether or not she's reverting, let's concentrate on getting her home. For Henry," she says, smiling down at him.

  
She does well to put on a good face, glistening with confidence, but truth be told, Emma feels the pressure rising. Henry expects both his mothers to come home and Emma's not so sure she'll be able to deliver. The last two times she confronted Regina went horribly wrong and resulted in her disappearing in a cloud of smoke. Though, a part of her feels like Killian was responsible for the downfall of their last encounter.

  
When Emma found Regina walking past Gold's Pawnshop the day after Robin's funeral, everything was going well. Emma's genuine concern for the brunette had softened the solid front that screens her. Had Killian not interrupted when he did, Regina would have done something she rarely ever does.   
She would have let Emma in.

  
Maybe it's still possible. But she'll have to see her alone. No interruptions this time. But of course, when Emma brings it up, Zelena doesn't necessarily agree.   
"And what on earth gives you the right to go alone? She's my sister. I'm going."

  
Emma lets go of Henry and grabs her red leather jacket that hangs by the door. She slips it on, rotating her shoulders into the snug fit. "All due respect Zelena, you two have been sisters for all of five minutes."

  
A look of disgust sweeps over Zelena's face, accompanied by an eye roll that only a true Mills could pull off. "Looks like we have an inflated sense of self-worth now don't we?"

  
"Are we really going to do this? Now?"

  
"Oh no dear," Zelena says with a smug smile. She tilts her head to the side, the corners of her lips spreading wider by the second. "I just think there's more behind your reasoning."

  
Emma clenches her jaw and feels her stomach coil with indignation. The hard glare she sends Zelena's way is replied with an all-knowing wink, making Emma's blood boil. What the hell was she implying anyway? She clears her throat and brushes off Zelena's comment. The woman was undoubtedly pleased with herself for getting a rise out of her, so Emma puts out the flame burning inside her before she ends up blurting out something she regrets. "I'm just looking to be Regina's friend, and I haven't been able to do that lately‚ between being the Dark One and venturing off to the Underworld.

  
"She's been there for me through all of it. She never stopped seeing the good in me when I fought against the darkness and even risked her life by coming down to the Underworld to save Hook. Now that Robin is gone, the least I could do is be there for her. I owe her that much."

  
Zelena sighs and the smug smile is wiped off her face. Emma's never revealed that to anyone before, which is probably why she can feel every set of eyes in the room bore right through her. They all remain silent for a few moments before Mary-Margret speaks up. "Emma, you do know that Robin's death isn't your fault right?"

  
"I know it's not my fault, not completely anyway, but I'm not doing this out of guilt. I'm doing this because I want to. I promised her once I'd help her find her happy ending and that's exactly what I intend to do." She finishes off with her head held high, but the way she awkwardly leans against the door of her mother's loft suggests that she's anything but comfortable with everything she just shared.

  
Henry smiles brightly at her, easing the obvious discomfort that irradiates from her. She stuffs her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and turns to Zelena for the go-ahead. It's not long before the woman huffs out a "Fine. Go."

  
With that, she makes her way out of the loft and to the cemetery.

  
Here we go.   


* * *

  
Breaking down one of Regina's protection spells is a losing battle, but she summons her magic anyway. Rays of white light gush through her palms like water through a fireman's hose and crash against the vault's shield of magic. The ground shakes at the contact but she manages to keep her balance, her aim never shifting from its target.

  
As expected, Regina's spell doesn't go down without a fight and slowly pushes Emma's magic back in her direction. The force of the spell makes its way closer until Emma retreats, ducking quickly to avoid the near hit. The vault glows with a purple, aura-like light as she gets to her feet once more.

  
She tries again.

  
This time, Emma gathers her magic into the palm of her hand, forming it into a large sphere. When it reaches the size of a soccer ball, she shoots it directly at the vault, hoping the impact would break the barrier that separates her from the vault's door. But it doesn't. The ball of magic merely scratches the surface of the protection spell as it ricochets recklessly into the air, disappearing before Emma could tell where it went. She just hopes it doesn't hit some poor schmuck walking along the streets of Storybrooke.

  
Emma catches her breath for a moment before pooling her magic once again. She figures if she could extract slightly more than before, there would be a better chance of cracking the shield. A nasty headache forms around her eyes, but she pushes through it until she feels she's gathered enough. Once satisfied, Emma launches her magic, only to be rewarded with the same outcome as earlier.

  
So that's two failed attempts and possibly two unlucky schmucks. _Goddammit._

  
Anger reels in as Emma grunts with frustration. Without thinking, she pulls her hands to her chest before lunging them forward again, blasting, even more, power towards the vault, white light crashing violently against purple. The pounding headache only grows as Emma attempts to keep her shaky hands steady. But soon energy drains from her body as if being sucked out of her along with every ounce of magic she can force. Her lids start to droop over her eyes before Emma drops down to her knees, still pouring out all the strength she has left. There's a prickling sensation that runs through her fingers and slowly spreads across her arms.

  
She barely sees through half-shut eyes and her brain feels like it's pulsing through her skull. She doesn't think she can hold out much longer. And now that her lungs dangerously crave oxygen, her body surrenders to the spell's retaliation.

  
Her frail arms fall to the side, and purple magic strikes Emma right to the chest, slamming the little air she has right out of her lungs. She's thrown off her knees, into the air like a ragdoll until her back collides heavily with the wall of a rock-solid Mausoleum. The blast of magic continues to push her hard against the stone as gravity drags her down to the ground, causing her leather jacket to lift and expose bare skin to rough concrete.

  
There's a stabbing pain that rips along her spine causing her body to shudder fiercely when she hits the dirt. A small pool of blood begins to surround her, staining her fingers that dig into the chalk-like earth. She lets out a weak groan, and as warm tears slowly coat her burning cheeks, she starts counting. She counts because she can't move. She can't do anything. Any movement whatsoever feels like a sharp blade piercing through her flesh. Her body stiffens‚ to the point where she feels like she's made out of porcelain and just might shatter at any given moment.

  
But she continues to count. She counts every passing second, doing her best to keep her mind from drifting out of consciousness.

  
Her nails cut deeper into the now blood-moist ground with every excruciating throb. She's hanging on, though. Someone will come. Someone will find her. It would all be over soon. As thin as the thread may be, her grip on life only fastens. Emma can't let go; she won't. She has to be brave. If not for herself, then for Henry.

  
But as the hot sun burns against open flesh, as a staggering amount of pain shreds through her, panic is what swallows her whole. Who is she kidding? Being alone at a time like this scares the living hell out of her. She's losing too much blood too fast and her chances of-

One minute.

  
Even with all the pain she's in, Emma still wants to run. She wants to get up and bolt to Regina's mausoleum. There's magic in there, magic that can heal her. But she's being held back, tied to an anchor that only seems to pull her deeper into the ocean. It's ironic how the one thing that is supposed to offer stability, meant to keep one grounded, only drags her away from shore. And it keeps pulling. The thread that binds her to life continues to stretch, and it's only a matter of time before it snaps.

  
Someone will find her though‚ any second now. Someone will save her soon enough.

  
But seconds become minutes. Twenty minutes and thirty seconds to be exact. And hope that someone may be coming begins to wash away like the blood that escapes from her throbbing wound. Emma carefully turns her head to find the puddle of crimson increasing in size and the heartbeat pounding in her ears becomes deafening. Literally. She can't hear anything. Except for this screeching ring, that sounds more like someone who's flatlining in a hospital bed.

  
Twenty-one minutes.

  
Maybe she's the one flat lining. She's not in a hospital, but the fact that she can no longer feel any part of her body tells her she may not make it past sunset.   
Trying to be everyone's savior meant always walking on thin ice, but Emma is grateful her last step before plunging into the ice-cold water was for Regina's benefit. The reason remains unclear, but if she isn't going to drown for Henry's sake, she's glad it's for Regina's.

  
Twenty-two minutes.

  
There's a hopeless breath that slips through her lips like all is lost, like she's ready to stop fighting. It feels like all she wants is to fall into an endless sleep and there's a voice in her head that keeps telling her to let go. It keeps telling her that she'll be all right if she just closes her�-

  
Twenty-three minutes.

  
She almost listens to it too. Until someone who is frantically running towards her emerges from behind golden sun rays. Emma can't make out who it is, but the panic portrayed through their body language is more than clear. And she can't keep her focus on this person for long because now her lids don't give her a choice. They slide down almost forcefully, but before they shut completely, at twenty-three minutes and fifty seconds, she sees her.

  
Regina.

  
Her flushed, distraught face, wet with tears, comes into clear view for a moment. Just a moment. A moment quick enough for Emma to mumble in a shaky breath, "Found you."  
And as a smile pulls at the corners of Emma's lips, Regina is replaced with the endless darkness that drapes over her.

* * *

  
In a cross between a walk and a slow jog, Regina re-enters the hospital room like someone who missed a scene of their favorite show due to a bathroom break. She stands at the side of the bed, staring down at its occupant. Emma. "I just brought Henry home. How is she? Any change?"

  
"No," Mary-Margret replies, the rhythmic beeping of the machines in the room making it hard for her to think let alone speak.

  
"Well, what about-"

  
"No change."

  
The cold lighting in the room does little to make Emma's condition any less worse than it seems. Her skin is as pale as the pages in a book, and her unruly blonde hair is slick with oil at the roots. The dark circles under her eyes make it look as though she hadn't slept in days. But the reality is quite opposing. She's been sleeping for days now‚ or resting. Anyone who used anything other than those two terms would be thrown out of the room by Mary-Margret herself.

  
"What did Whale say while I was gone?" Regina asks.

  
"That she needs rest."

  
"How much could she possibly need?"

  
"As much as she can get."

  
"She's been resting for three days," Regina says anxiously, her hand stretching down to Emma's shoulder.

  
Her gaze follows Regina's palm. "I'm aware Regina."

  
"I'm sorry, I'm just-"

  
"I know. Why don't you get us some coffee? I have a feeling we're going to need it."

  
To Mary-Margret's delight, that's exactly what Regina does. And as the brunette exits the room, she exhales deeply at the sight of her unconscious daughter. Three days, moving on to four, and Emma still hasn't woken up. Not that Regina has been making it any easier. Her constant, hovering made waiting for Emma's recovery all the more nerve-racking. Not only did Mary-Margret have to worry about her comatose daughter, but also watch over a distressed Regina. Apparently, that came with the job of being Emma's mother. And it certainly was no easy task.

  
Taming Regina is something anyone has yet to master. The woman is like a ticking time bomb‚ which is why Dr. Whale won't allow her in the room when he performs his routine checkups. There have been more than a few threats to his life when Regina wasn't accusing him of malpractice. From the moment she brought Emma in, she's been a distraught mess. But Mary-Margret hadn't been any better, she just kept her anxiety bottled up inside her. However, Regina's actions would have been an accurate representation of her own if she hadn't.

  
And as the late hour begins to creep up on her, the only thing Mary-Margret can do is hope. Hope that whatever Regina had surrounding her vault, wasn't enough to ki-  
She can't even say it.

  
But she's been hoping for almost four days now, and it's gotten her nowhere. Her daughter still lies in the hospital bed, covered in bruises and lacerations, hooked up to every piece of machinery known to man. The sight burns a whole right through her. Even with Regina's healing magic, Emma needs to be awake for the spell to take full effect.   
  
She sighs, utterly discouraged until her ears catch onto what she thinks is a faint groan. Her mind tells her that fatigue is playing tricks‚ as it is fifteen minutes to midnight‚ but she hears it again. And again. Mary-Margret snaps her gaze in Emma's direction to see a pair of fluttering eyes adjusting to the bright neon light above.

  
"Emma!"

  
She bolts from the visitors' seat in the corner of the room and wraps gently wraps her arms around Emma's fragile body. Tears drip to the side of her face, now squished against Emma's. "You're awake!" she laughs with relief, still hugging a squirming Emma tightly to her chest. "I'm so happy you're okay."

  
It's only when she finally lets her daughter go that Emma gets the chance to speak. "Can I get some coffee too?"

  
The words barely crackle past her lips and carry a heavy rasp, but it's the most beautiful sound Mary-Margret has heard all week.

  
She wipes away another tear rolling down to her lips before cupping Emma's cheek, and she nods happily while releasing a breathy laugh.

  
"Great, 'cause I think I'm going to need one. My head hurts like a bitch," she says with a weak smile, evidently trying to conceal the immense amount of discomfort she feels.

  
Mary-Margret rests her palm over Emma's forearm, stroking her thumb across her skin in a soothing motion. "How are you feeling? You've been unconscious for a while."

  
"I feel like a million bucks," Emma kids, chuckling lightly until the pain catches up to her. She looks curiously around the room. "I thought I heard Regina."

  
Mary-Margret can't help but notice a pinch of disappointment in her tone, as her daughter continues to look around, careful not to irritate her wound.   
"You did."

Emma's eyes widen instantly as her head lifts from the pillow before flinching in pain again. She breathes through it before asking, "She was here?"

  
"Every day," Mary-Margret replies with a curious brow. "She goes home to sleep. Then comes right back here, bright and early."

  
And there's something about the way Emma's eyes light up that makes Mary-Margret question the reason behind. But she pushes her curiosity aside for another time because Regina's back and is now standing in the middle of the doorway as stiff as a plank of wood.

  
The woman's mouth drops as the two coffee cups she holds slip right through her palms, splashing against the laminate flooring. Emma's gaze lands directly onto Regina and Regina's is already dead on Emma. Their eyes burn right through one another, and suddenly Mary-Margret feels like they've forgotten she was in the room.

  
Regina swallows nervously as her palms press against her stomach. "You're awake."

  
"I am," Emma says. A tint of red blossoms over her cheeks as she brings her shoulders up to her ears. "Hi."

  
Mary-Margret knits her brows, unsure as to what she's witnessing here, but her eyes continue to dart back and forth from blonde to brunette like she's watching a Ping-Pong match.

  
And then Regina's look of relief quickly turns into one of fury. She storms into the room, raising her voice by an octave‚ or maybe two, when she asks, "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

  
"I wanted to help."

  
"No. You were worried the Evil Queen was about to come out and play. As I'm sure you all were," Regina challenges, giving Emma a stern look in the process. "You could have been killed."

  
And if looks could kill, Emma would surely be done for. The mayor isn't having it, and the vein on her forehead seems like it's going to pop any second now.

  
Mary-Margret quietly steps back until she reaches the chair in the corner of the room. She most definitely does not want to interrupt this‚ whatever it is. She has a feeling it's going to be an interesting little quarrel. A bowl of popcorn wouldn't sound so bad right about now.

  
Sitting down, she watches the two bicker, arguing about how utterly idiotic Emma had been and how if Regina hadn't been so stubborn, none of it would have happened in the first place. The whole thing was childish, to say the least. But they always fought like this. Insults were thrown at each other like they're going out of style right before the blame game begins. It's almost like a verbal boxing match, and it's quite the entertainment. Mary-Margret would put an end to it, really she would, but before Regina stepped into the room, Emma was far from the worked up, hot and bothered state she's in now. If she's honest, Mary-Margret enjoys seeing so much life restored into her daughter after three days of watching her sleep.

  
"I told you your pity was not wanted nor needed," Regina hisses in her infamous mayoral tone. "But apparently to the Savior, that means 'Hey, let me go out and instigate further. Maybe throw in a near death experience while I'm at it.'"

  
Emma rolls her eyes and huffs in exhaustion. "I wasn't trying to instigate Regina. I was-"

  
"I don't care if you were bringing me Hook's head on a plate. What you did was reckless and most certainly ill-advised Miss Swan."

  
Mary-Margret snickers under her breath until Emma says something that grabs her interest. It's a question that she's been itching to ask but never had the gall to bring up.   
Even Regina is taken back when Emma curiously asks, "Why do you care? Why is it so important to you that I stay out of harm's way?"

  
Now would be an excellent time for that popcorn.

  
"Because I just lost Robin," she snaps, her authoritative tone disappearing in a flash. Regina's eyes being to water and her voice is brittle, almost like she's about to release a wrenching sob. "He died on my account and so help me God if the same happens to you."

  
Maybe Mary-Margret could add some chocolate too because this just got five times more engaging than she originally anticipated. She can't believe what she's hearing and from the looks of it, Regina can't either. It seems like the usually self-composed brunette is completely stunned by her response.

  
There's a long pause between the two. Neither of them dares to look each other in the eye. Regina shifts her weight from one foot to the other while brushing a strand of loose hair behind her ear. And Emma stares down at her hospital gown like it's the only thing she's allowed to look at.

  
But then Regina awkwardly breaks the silence, getting right back down to business. "If I'm going to heal you, I need access to the wound."

  
Emma nods as she slowly turns to her side, revealing her bare back to the brunette. And without a single word, Regina works her magic. A yellow glow oozes from the woman's hands and blankets Emma's wound. Within seconds, Emma is seemingly pain-free. No more bruises, no more cuts and no huge gash on her daughter's back.

  
She looks as good as new, and Mary-Margret couldn't be happier. If she didn't know any better, relief seems to wash over Regina as well. A microscopic smile flashes over the brunette's lips, fading just as quickly as it came before she begins to make her way out of the room.

  
Emma props herself onto her elbows with complete ease and calls out, "Regina."

  
The brunette stops dead in her tracks, right in the middle of the doorway, but doesn't turn around. She waits for Emma to speak instead.

  
"I won't," she ensures. Only Regina's head turns slightly at the words, her gaze fixed onto the green flooring as Emma continues. "I won't die on your account. But I will continue to be there for you. No matter what that takes."

  
The reply Emma waits for never comes. The only sound that fills the air is Regina's heels that click out of the room. Emma huffs out a deep breath and falls back against the bed, staring directly at the ceiling.

  
Mary-Margret looks at her pensively. She's slightly worried that Emma had meant that last statement. Considering that she so senselessly put her life in danger for Regina just three days ago, gave her every right to be. "No matter what it takes?"

  
Emma rolls her head toward her mother before looking back up at the ceiling. She brings the back of her palm to her forehead before replying, "No matter what it takes."

 

* * *

  
Regina sits up on her bed, back against the headboard and knees curled up to her chest. It's well past midnight, and she hadn't slept since she arrived home from the hospital earlier that night. Regina hasn't done much of anything except sit still and occasionally knock her head against the headboard out of frustration‚ gently of course, as she doesn't want to wake Henry, sound asleep in the next room.

  
Seven days have passed since Robin's death, but to Regina, it feels all of seven minutes. It's as though almost no time has passed. She can still feel the stab to her heart the moment he stepped in front of her, accepting the strike of lightening that obliterated his soul. She still feels the tremor beneath her feet when his body hit the cold, hard ground. She can still picture every damned detail on his face when he looked up at her for the last time. The delicate touch to her cheek still lingers, and his croaky voice still reaches her ears loud enough to make her think he's really there.

  
She hasn't stepped foot in the Town Hall office since that night, yet it's all Regina sees. And if the god-awful sight of his soul dissolving into nothing doesn't haunt her mind, it's only replaced with memories. Every laugh, every tear, every touch, every kiss, everything they've ever shared together plays in sequence like a short film only she can see. It's a film she's going to have to watch over and over because it will never have a sequel. She blames herself for that. It should have been her. Every single time, it should have been her. All she can think about is how loving her has the consequence of death.

  
The guilt eats her alive. Every day.

  
It's a delicate cycle. One that Regina can't repeat for much longer because if this horrible burden victimizes someone else, she might just-

  
She shudders at the thought and hugs her legs tighter to her chest, letting her head fall to her knees. Somehow doing so makes her feel less hollow, less alone. But maybe that's exactly how she's meant to be after all. Alone. She always has been and perhaps it's for the best. This way no one gets hurt. No one dies. The only one that suffers is Regina. And she's okay with that. She'd much rather bleed than have others bleed for her. She just hopes Emma's determination on being a pain in the ass perishes soon. Otherwise, she too will be met with the same unfortunate fate.

  
She almost was.

  
Emma was flat against hard stone, quivering in her own blood when Regina found her. It felt much too familiar when tears streamed down her face, dropping to the earth when they reached the tip of her chin. There was an identical pang to the chest when Emma looked up at her with a tight smile, when blue-green eyes retreated behind blonde lashes. Once again, Regina about to watch someone she lo-she was about to watch yet another person succumb to the curse bestowed upon her.

  
The chime of the doorbell distracts Regina from her thoughts. And it does so just in time too because being alone with her thoughts was treacherous at best. It did more harm than good. Another minute or so would have lead to-she doesn't even want to say it.

  
Regina hops off her bed and quietly scurries down the stairs, halting just before she reaches the door. She stands on the very last step of the staircase and listens. As she flicks on the light, she hears a muffled voice with a thick British accent coming from outside. Regina correctly assumes it belongs to Zelena but then there's another. It's chirpy, it's optimistic, it's so annoyingly eager that it currently rubs Regina in all the wrong ways, it's-

  
"Mary-Margret," Regina smiles falsely as she swings the door open. She turns to her sister. "Zelena, how kind of you to bring company."

  
Zelena shrugs apologetically. "She insisted on being here."

  
"We thought you might want some company," Mary-Margret suggests.

  
"Well actually, I thought you might want my company," Zelena specifies. "But apparently we can't do anything without the Charmings around."

  
"It's past midnight," Regina frowns. "Henry's asleep upstairs."

  
"Well you're awake aren't you?"

  
Regina dismisses the statement and looks between a beaming Mary-Margret and a displeased Zelena. "And Emma?"

  
The question flows effortlessly from her mouth. It was almost a reflex. She barely had time to process the words before they decided to jump from her tongue. She feels the heat rise to her cheeks as Mary-Margret narrows her eyes at her. It looks as if she's trying to make sense of it all. Though what she's trying to understand is beyond Regina. It's a simple question. Hell, even a flying monkey could answer it with ease.

  
"She's fine. Thank you for healing her," Mary-Margret finally replies. "May we come in?"

  
But that's not what Regina was asking. She knows quite well that Emma is fine. The spell she used to heal her was much too flawless for Emma not to be. In fact, it was undoubtedly some of her best work. No, the blonde's well-being isn't her concern right now. The question she wanted the answer to was-

  
"Regina?"

  
"Fine," Regina rolls her eyes, too spent to argue. She looks directly at the pixie-haired woman before adding, "But if you're here to deliver one of your infamous hope speeches, I don't want to hear it. I'd much rather drown my sorrows in tequila. Or perhaps apple cider‚ I haven't decided yet."

  
Mary-Margret nods sympathetically as Regina struts back up the stairs, leaving both women at the doorstep. As the heels of her feet stomp against each step, Regina raises her forefinger in the air and says, "And there will be no pity party. Any of that crap will result in you being hauled out to the front porch." She stops before entering her room, flooring Zelena and Mary-Margret with a pointed glare. "Do I make myself clear?"

  
They look at her with wide eyes and nod simultaneously.

  
"Good. I've decided on tequila. There's a bottle in the freezer and glasses in the cabinet. Meet me in my study."   
  
  
 


	3. The Truth is in the Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to all of you who have been following my fic thus far and have been sending me so much support along the way! This chapter is by far my favorite of them all, so I hope you guys enjoy! :)   
> Just a little side note, the fourth chapter will be up a little later than usual due to a mild concussion that I was "lucky" enough to get during a soccer game... -_- I'll do my best to finish it & have it up as soon as possible!   
> But on the bright side, here's chapter 3! xx - R.F.

Former Evil Queen, Wicked Witch of the West and Snow White, sit on the brown leather seats of Regina's study, circling a relatively large bottle of tequila. It’s quite absurd if Regina thinks about it. Nothing about this scene makes the least bit of sense. In fact, if anyone from the Enchanted Forest were to walk in her study at this very moment, their brains would most likely implode through their skull.

But this rather odd combination of people is her family. And despite the lack of words they share as Regina sips the harsh drink and leans back restlessly into her chair, she’s more than grateful for their presence. Having them both in the room somehow makes it easier and holding onto that mental glimpse of Robin becomes less painful. It becomes almost comforting to see the love he once had in his eyes. The love that, if spilled, could make up an entire ocean.

Regina keeps her gaze fixed ahead, but nothing comes into focus. Her sight remains trapped in her mind, clinging onto Robin for as long as she could. And she's afraid that if she moves, if she so much as blinks, he will disappear.

“Regina?” Mary-Margret leans toward her, placing a comforting hand on Regina’s knee. “Are you alright? You haven’t said a word since we sat down.”

Mary-Margret’s voice snaps Regina back to the bitter reality. Robin's smile fades away until all that is left are his eyes. But even they begin to grow further away, leaving behind a perpetual darkness.

Regina closes her eyes, catching the developing tears before they fall. “I’m fine.”

“You can talk to us,” Zelena assures her.

“I said I’m fine.”

Mary-Margret’s lips form a tight line as she leans her head to the side. “It’s completely normal you know…to feel like this. You don’t have to hide it.”

Regina's eyes snap open. A stifled sob scratches past her throat. "Is it, though? To feel like you've lost everything? To feel like the universe enjoys getting a kick out of you? Like no matter what you do or say, you’ll always be life’s personal punching bag? Because _that’s_ how I feel. I live in constant fear of when I’m set to receive the next hit, always searching for a shadow rather than enjoying the light.”

Zelena and Mary-Margret glance at one another and then shift their focus back to Regina. No one responds.

She doesn’t expect them to.

“But none of that matters,” Regina sighs as she looks away. “Why should I get the benefit of a blissful life after all the things I’ve done?”

“Regina, that was the past,” Mary-Margret says, shaking her head. “You’ve changed. We all have.”

“That means nothing. It doesn't alter the number of people I've hurt, the number of villages I've burned to the ground, the countless lives I've…taken.” Regina swallows thickly. Her throat aches while attempting to hold back the silent cries. “What's done is done, and I have to live with that. Everyday. So even while I choose to do good, evil still lives inside me.”

“Evil lives within everyone,” Zelena says with a measure of understanding.

A sad smile appears over Regina’s bare lips. “But not everyone gives into its seductive lure. I know what it’s like to indulge in every impulse, to do whatever the hell I want and not give a damn about anybody else. Sometimes it’s hard to choose good when you’ve tasted the sweet waters of evil.”

Zelena nods in agreement, but Mary-Margret blinks rapidly in surprise. “Are you saying you don’t like doing good?”

“Precisely.” Regina looks down at her fidgeting thumbs for a moment. She realizes how awful it must sound, but it's the truth. “What use is doing good when all it gets me is endless suffering? I’ve worked so hard to redeem myself and for what? I still watch everyone get what they want while everything I have gets ripped away from me.”

Mary-Margret’s hand falls over Regina’s, giving the back of her palm a tight squeeze. “And I have yet to see you stop fighting.”

“I almost did.”

“Regina, Robin’s death was not your fault.”

“It wasn’t Robin,” Zelena cuts in. “It’s Hook’s return, isn’t it?”

_Hook._ Just his name sends fire through her veins. Regina nods. "I suppose it's a combination of the two."

“Seems like an opportunity missed,” Zelena mutters under her breath.

Mary-Margret whips her head around and glares at the woman. “Zelena!”

“Oh please,” Zelena rolls her eyes. “Don’t even pretend for a moment that you’re pleased with his miraculous comeback. He cares for nothing but himself and his arm candy. No offense.”

Mary-Margret turns around fully and lifts her forefinger. “My feelings about Hook being back are irrelevant.”

Zelena shrugs, looking over to Regina. “All I’m saying is that he wouldn’t be missed if you decided to dabble in dark magic again, sis.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Mary-Margret warns.

Zelena’s words sink into Regina’s brain. She can’t say the idea has never come up because it most certainly has. More than once. But every time the thought of sending Hook back where he belonged crossed her mind, fueling her with rage and agony, something else quickly followed suit. Emma. Getting rid of the pirate would mean devastating Emma. She simply couldn’t find it in herself to pursue such an action. Had this been four years ago? Perhaps. But times have changed.

As much as she’d love to see the blonde without the anchor pulling at her hip, she also wants her to be happy—for Henry's sake of course. And if it's the one-handed wonder who makes her so, then so be it.

Regina opens her mouth, ready to speak but quickly decides against what she’s about to say. Evidently confessing to Mary-Margret about her preferred plans for Hook is irrational. She would just be proving everyone right, giving them all a reason to believe that the evil queen inside her was, in fact, planning to pay a visit.

“You said you almost stopped fighting,” Mary-Margret says, now directing her full attention toward Regina. “What made you continue?”

"Not ‘what,' it's _who._ ”

“Alright then, who?”

“I reminded myself that if I don’t fight against my instincts,” Regina continues, “I lose the one person I can’t live without. Henry. I’ll admit that when Robin died, I wanted justice and I was prepared to make sure it was served.”

Mary-Margret gives her a disapproving look, but Regina ignores it and gets to her point instead. "But I didn’t do any of that because I know it’s wrong. Despite what most people think, in this godforsaken town, I can control my destructive impulses. As hard as it is, I do it. And I do it because I can’t bear the thought of losing anyone else I love.

“I just want to be happy. But it seems that happiness is not in the cards for me. Perhaps there _is_ no such thing as redemption, and we're all doomed to pay for what we've done. I've afflicted so much pain, caused so much suffering that I couldn't even keep track. And maybe this is what I deserve. Maybe this is my karmic fate, my condemned destiny...whatever suits you."

Mary-Margret looks at her in the typical Mary-Margret way. She oozes with compassion, like a golden glow that shines around her. There’s warmth in her tone when Mary-Margret says, “I don’t believe that. I think we hold our own destiny.”

Regina sinks into her armchair. “If that were true, a lot of things would have been different.”

“No actually, they wouldn’t have,” Mary-Margret says as a matter-of-fact. “You can’t control the things that happen around you. No one can.”

Regina rolls her eyes in attempts to hold back the tears that suddenly spring to her lids. She forces a smile, but her cheeks immediately push the corners of her lips into a quivering thin line.

Mary-Margret leans in, ducking her head down to Regina’s line of vision. “What you _can_ control is _how_ you react to them. So, you can either destine yourself to eternal suffering, you can hide away from reality and allow it to dim your shine, _or…_ you can bounce back, stronger and brighter than ever.”

Regina looks up at Mary-Margret. She doesn’t even ponder the statement because the woman is right. Regina _had_ been setting herself up for failure. She had been her whole life, always quick to shove away any opportunity to forgive, falling into the hands of vengeance instead.

Anger was all she had. It's all she's ever known.

Who would she be without it?

“And how do you suppose I ‘ _bounce back’_ from all of this?” Regina quirks her brow as though she’s about to hear the most ludicrous of all replies.

“You need to _let go_.”

But how is one supposed to let go of something so precious? The idea seems almost impossible to Regina. Living with pain makes more sense to her than releasing it. Where would it go if she weren’t harboring it for herself? How can someone willingly set their pain free without forgetting the source of it entirely?

And suddenly it clicks.

“You’re absolutely right.” A smile spreads across Regina’s lips as she wipes away a falling tear. She opens her palm and shuts her eyes, envisioning the only thing that could help her now. Her mother’s spell book.

In seconds a cloud of purple smoke swirls over her hand and the spell book appears from within as if from nowhere, falling lightly into her grasp as the smoke fades away.

Both Mary-Margret and Zelena look at Regina with confusion in their eyes.

“Is that a spell book?” Zelena asks.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Regina doesn't reply. Instead, she pushes herself off the armchair and thoroughly straightens out her turquoise, silk pajamas before flipping through the pages of her mother's spell book. Regina carefully reads through each page for the right spell as she paces back and forth, damping her forefinger with the lick of her tongue every so often.

She has a plan. And this time, it involves no vengeance, no anger, just a matter of letting go.

“Regina…what are you doing?” Mary-Margret asks, slowly setting her glass down.

Regina looks down at the woman with a wide grin, full of hope and self-assurance. “I’m letting go.”

           

* * *

 

Mary-Margret and Zelena's interrogation had eventually come to an end, and the room grew quieter as time went by. Regina had been buried in her spell book since she's opened it, losing all sense of her surroundings as she explored the world of magic.

She's in search for a particular potion that would put an end to all the pain she feels at this very moment. It's been years since Regina's last used it, so she's skeptical about brewing it from memory. One wrong ingredient or even a missing one could change the effects of the potion entirely.

But she's been searching for what feels like an eternity and frustration grows with every flip of the page.

“This is all a bunch of useless crap,” Regina grunts as she all but whips the spell book across her study. It slams hard against the mahogany bookshelf across the room and falls to the floor with a loud thump.

The deafening silence makes the single book she threw sound like a stampede of encyclopedias clashing against the bookshelf all at once. She winces, hoping she hadn’t woken Henry. But when she turns around, she notices Henry is not the only one she needs to worry about.

On the sofa across from her, Mary-Margret and Zelena had also fallen asleep. She giggles quietly when Zelena's head jerks up with a snort, only to fall back down to her shoulder. While Zelena repeats the same process, Regina's eyes shift toward the analog clock on the circular table between the two slumbering women.

The time reads two thirty-five in the morning.

Regina had been so preoccupied with finding that damned spell that she hadn't even noticed the time go by.

She smiles to herself, amused at the sight of the two bobbing heads before her. Their faint snores whistle through the air; one after another like a discordant tune.

Waking them up seemed useless since the sun would creep up in a few hours. They'd probably have sore necks by then, but as of this moment, they looked quite peaceful, and Regina had no intentions of disrupting that.

She wonders if tranquility would pervade her someday.

Shaking away the thought, Regina quietly tiptoes past Zelena and Mary-Margret. She stops once she reaches her desk and slowly pulls open the bottom drawer, careful not to make more noise than she already had.

With the study having such large windows, the temperature had a tendency to drop relatively quickly. In other words, blankets were an absolute must.

From the drawer, she pulls out two of them and takes slow, feather-light steps back to Zelena and Mary-Margret, gently placing a blanket over each of them.

“Mom?” a sleepy voice whispers from behind.

Regina jumps and whirls around to find her son rubbing his eyes with his fists in the doorway of her study.

“Henry? Is everything alright?” Her eyes widen, brows falling soft.

Henry squints at her. “I heard noises coming from your study. It sounded like—” He leans his head to the side, his brow reaching his hairline once he catches sight of Mary-Margret and Zelena dreaming away. “—What are Mary-Margret and Zelena doing here?”

“Oh, they came over after I left the hospital…I’m sorry I woke you.”

Henry lets out a deep yawn. "It's fine. I was up thinking about you and mom anyway."

Regina walks toward him and rests her palms on the top of his shoulders. “Henry, you don’t have to worry about me,” she smiles. “I’m fine. And Emma is too. In fact, she woke up shortly after I brought you home.”

"You healed her? She's okay?" Henry beams, suddenly looking opposite of the corpse he resembled earlier.

She nods happily.

“Can we go see her? Or call her?”

Regina chuckles lightly and brings her forefinger up to her lips, reminding him that their guests are sound asleep. She takes his hand and leads him to the moonlit living room where they both sit side-by-side on the sofa. “It's almost three in the morning…I’d expect she’s asleep by now dear. We can call her in the morning. Perhaps go for breakfast at Granny’s?

“Can’t you text her now? Ask her if she’s awake? Please, I just want to hear that she’s okay…” He begs, a sour look developing over his face.

Regina looks at him, her lips curling inward as they form a straight line. Calling Emma in the middle of the night unsettles her because had the tables been turned, Emma would certainly be getting an earful. But she can’t resist the look in Henry’s eyes when he so desperately wants something. She never really could. And it kills her to see Henry worry as much as he did over the last few days. She just wants some relief for her son.

Regina exhales, giving in.

One text couldn’t hurt. She types in a quick message to the blonde.

           

_Are you awake?_

 

Regina stares down at her phone, bouncing her crossed legs while she and Henry wait for a reply that may never even come. But it isn’t long until her phone reverberates against her clammy hands.

_**Yea. Why are you up?** _

****

_Henry is worried about you. Can we call you? I understand if you're tired…_

_**Call me.** _

 

Regina can’t help but notice a smile spread from one cheek to the other. Strangely enough, she’s almost as pleased as Henry is when they read the last text.

She taps the telephone icon on her screen and presses the cell phone against her ear. It barely hits the second ring before the line connects and Emma’s silvery voice sounds from the other end. Her stomach clenches.

“Hey.”

Regina stills for a moment and clears her throat. She tries to sound as casual as Emma but instead manages to stiff out an awkward, "Hello."

“So… _Henry_ was worried about me huh?" Emma asks, and Regina can practically see the devious little grin smeared over the blonde’s lips.

 She rolls her eyes, already having predicted Emma would make such a remark. After their conversation in the hospital room, she presumes they’ll be coming quite often.

“Yes, _Henry._ He’s with me now,” Regina says, looking over at her son who smiles at her with a toothy grin. “And I think he’s about to erupt with excitement if I don’t hand him the phone soon.”

Emma laughs a warm, whole-hearted laugh that sends a pleasant tingle through Regina’s chest. “Alright, alright, let me speak to him.”

She hands the phone to Henry. He wraps his arms around Regina's waist, startling her for a moment before she returns the embrace. She kisses him lightly on the top of his head.

"Thank you," he whispers happily as he gently releases her.

She smiles at him, motioning her chin toward the phone to remind him that Emma was still on the line. Henry eagerly heads toward the foyer, plopping himself onto the staircase.

From the living room, Regina can hear his animated chatter and it puts her at ease knowing that Henry has one less thing to worry about. If the past week had been hard on anyone, it was Henry. With Robin’s passing and Emma’s harebrained actions, a moment of peace was hard to come by for her son.

He just wants their lives to be ordinary for once, but his belief that they could all be happy at the same time far outstretched the unvarnished truth.

The truth that happiness was hard to come by when one has a past like Regina's; one that’s been gorged by isolation, destruction and a dark path toward retribution.

Though in his heart, he still believes the chaos would eventually subside. And with the clear-cut determination that lies within her little prince, Regina knows he would do just about anything to preserve his mothers' happy endings.

Which evidently worries Regina to no end.

But for now, she’s satisfied knowing her son can finally shed some of that extra weight off his shoulders.

Things would be better soon. With a simple spell, they would have nothing to worry about whatsoever. And Regina hopes that this time, they could finally live like the family they were meant to be.

After about fifteen minutes of spirited conversation and frequent laughter sounding from the foyer, Henry returns to the living room and stretches his arm out until the phone reaches Regina’s face.

"Here," he says with a smug grin.

Regina gives him a puzzled look. The screen still shines brightly, harsh on her eyes as it glares through the darkness of nightfall. She squints and notices the seconds timing the call are still ticking. Emma is still on the phone.

“She wants to talk to you.”

“Me? Why?” Regina whispers.

Henry shrugs. “She just told me to give you the phone.”

Regina’s gaze shoots back and forth between her son and the bright screen Henry waves in her face. She’s not sure she wants to have a one-on-one conversation with Emma just yet. After what came out of her mouth before leaving the hospital, only God knows what she’d spew out this time around. But it appears Regina doesn’t have a say in the matter because Henry decides for her. He presses the phone up against her ear, and releases his grip, giving Regina no choice but to catch the damned thing from its fall.

She sends him a playful glare while he leans in to give her quick peck on the cheek before happily scurrying off to his bedroom. Regina crosses her legs and leans into the phone. “Emma?”

“Hi.”

Silence settles between them like a cloud growing heavy with precipitation. Regina could hear the static crackle through the line as it shoots from one end to the other. And the cloud continues to build, feeding on the absence of words.

Until it rains.

“Emma I—“

“Regina I’m sorry.”

Regina tilts her head, uncrossing her legs. “Wait, why are you apologizing?”

“Because you were right,” Emma sighs. “I didn’t respect your wish to be left alone. Instead, I was too busy worrying that—“

“That I was plotting some evil scheme to get Robin back.” Regina finishes the sentence for her. The fact that Emma could believe such a thing worms its way into Regina. Her stomach hurls inward like someone had punched her in the gut.

“Cut me some slack Regina, what was I supposed to think? You locked yourself in your vault...you put up a protection spell.”

Her heart sinks low from her chest, and hot lava fills the void, inching its way up to her neck. She clenches her jaw. "You know, of all the half-baked, empty-headed imbeciles in this town, I never thought _you_ would be the one to make these assumptions. I thought, at the very least, that you would have my back.”

“And I do! But—”

"Goodbye, Miss Swan."

Regina rips the phone away from her ear and holds it over her lap. Her thumb hovers over the ‘end call’ icon at the bottom of her screen but she can’t bring herself to push it.

“Regina please,” Emma’s muffled voice echoes through the small speaker below.

“Regina?” she calls out once more. “Fine, you don’t have to say anything. Just let me do the talking.”

Regina's hand shakes its way back up, holding the phone to her ear. She stays silent while Emma's gentle voice comes through clearer than ever. "Look, I know I messed up in not trusting you. You didn't deserve that; especially after all the support you've sent my way when I was the Dark One. I should have been a better friend to you, and I'm sorry. I want to make up for that, for not being there when you needed me. I meant what I said in the hospital room. Every word.”

For a moment the line goes quiet.

Regina shuts her eyes as she curls into the corner of the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her. She sucks in a deep breath and releases it before the living room comes into view again. “Your mother came by earlier. She said something quite interesting before falling asleep with Zelena in my study.”

“Regina, what does my mom have to—Is this your way of forgiving me?”

“Do you want to hear what she told me or not?”

“Yea I do,” Emma says quickly. “Wait…she fell asleep with Zelena?”

Regina runs her fingers through her hair, brushing back the loose strands from her face. “Yes, she's here too, but that's beside the point. As I was saying, she said that each of us holds our own destiny. Do you believe that?”

“I guess so, why?”

“I don’t know,” Regina shrugs, picking the lint off the hem of her pajamas. “I suppose the idea sounded absurd to me at first.”

“And now?”

Regina sighs. “Now I think she may be right.”

 

* * *

 

The heat of Emma's cell phone warms her ear as Regina's velvety voice flows from the other end of the line. The moon's pale light spills through the crack of her curtains on the main floor where she's sprawled over the couch.

“You sound disappointed.” Emma sits up, cupping the back of her neck with the palm of her hand.

“More like conflicted.”

“Why?”“I may have an idea that will kick start the whole ‘take-charge-of-your-destiny’ ordeal,” Regina murmurs.

“I may have an idea that will kick start the whole ‘take-charge-of-your-destiny’ ordeal,” Regina murmurs.

Emma leans over and props her elbows over her knees. “Well that’s a good thing isn’t it?”

“It has a steep price.”

Emma's curiosity peaks, but she knows better than to hound Regina with questions. The woman needed a delicate approach. Otherwise, Regina would put an end to the entire conversation. So she asks the most important, yet least invasive question. “Who’s paying?”

“Me."

“Regina, you've already been through so much."

“Don’t you think I know that?” Regina snaps. Relinquishment drowns each word in a way that makes Emma’s throat burn. She hears Regina take a deep breath. “I won’t exactly be aware of the price I’m paying.”

More questions flood Emma's mind. Her brows knit together and she scrunches up her nose. It seems that while she tries to make sense out of what Regina is telling her, the situation only becomes more complicated.

"Am I being completely ridiculous?" Regina asks.

"Of course not, you're grieving. It's just a hard process to deal with."

Regina's sigh flows from the receiver. "I'm well aware of its complexities, trust me."

An uneven breath comes from Regina's end, followed by a quick sniff. Its attempt to be concealed almost makes it go unnoticed, but Emma hears it once more. Soon after, a quiet, stifled cry reaches her ears, and it rips her insides apart. All she can do is sit there and listen because there is nothing she could possibly say to make this better.

Emma knows this is more than just about Robin. Regina had been a subject to grief more than once, and it seems that every single loss has piled up and is now hitting her like a ton of bricks.

"I'm just tired of it." The words grate past her throat, sounding almost painful. "Of grieving, of hurting, I've had enough."

"And what you have planned...you think it will stop the hurting?"

"Yes," Regina croaks. "It may be silly and perhaps morally wrong, but I do believe it will help me move on."

"Then do it."

"What?"

"Do it," Emma repeats. She failed to trust Regina before, but she won't doubt her this time. If Regina says it will help her, then Emma wants nothing more than to be there for support. "Don't worry about being ridiculous. I should know. I went down to the Underworld because I was too stubborn to accept the fact that Hook was gone. There's no way your plan could be worse than what I did."

Regina's stifled sob flourishes into a light laugh. "A true Charming."

It warms Emma's heart knowing that there's a smile on Regina's face even when all the evidence says there shouldn't be. And the pleasant flame increases in size when Emma realizes that she's the one who put it there. "Yea well this ' _Charming_ ' endangered her entire family with that little stunt."

Regina's laughter stops. "Emma, they chose to go down there. No one was obliged to be there; everyone had the option to say no."

"So did you," Emma states with a pinch of curiosity.

"So did I," Regina confirms.

"And yet you came down anyway. Why? You and Hook don't exactly get along."

A scoff comes from Regina's end, and Emma imagines the infamous eye roll that must be accompanying it. "You think I came down there to save Hook? That's probably the most absurd thing I've heard all week. And that's saying a lot. If I'm honest, you'd be better off without that pathetic excuse of a pirate."

Emma's chest tightens but the words still penetrate through her ribcage like a dozen sharp knives.

"Regardless," Regina continues, filling in the momentary silence. "Hook is not the reason I agreed to go down there."

"Then what was?"

"You."

Emma falls against the back of her couch as her jaw drops to the floor. The knives in her chest vanish instantly.

She can't understand for the life of her how Regina does that. How she makes her words squirm their way into Emma's heart. How she loads each one with intense magnitude. How they're strong enough to pick Emma up, yet heavy enough to weigh her down.

Regina awkwardly clears her throat. "Well, I should go, it's getting pretty late. I'm sure you'd like to get some sleep."

Emma doubts that she'll get any sleep after this conversation. She could barely get any after the one they had in the hospital room. Before Regina texted, Emma had been replaying the whole thing in her head over and over, making sure it was all real.

Now there are even more thoughts loading her brain and it's unlikely they'll disappear anytime soon.

"Right," Emma pretends to agree.

"Before I go," Regina adds. "Henry and I were planning on having breakfast at Granny's. I was wondering if you'd like to join? I would suggest dinner, but frankly, I don't think Henry wants to wait until then. He's very excited to see you."

Emma's heart jumps, a wave of excitement ripples through her. "I'd love to."

"Great," Regina says eagerly. "I'll be over for ten o'clock. Don't keep me waiting."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Emma's lips curl into a wide grin, and she's unable to make it stop.

"Oh and Emma?"

"Yea?"

"I'm sorry. Shutting you out last week...it was wrong of me. I know you were trying to help and I—"

"Hey, it's okay," Emma interrupts. "This isn't exactly the simplest of situations."

"It never is," Regina says with defeat. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow I suppose. Goodnight, Emma."

Emma wishes her a good night, and the line goes dead. The dull, never-ending tone blares in her ear for a few moments before she ends the call.

She thrusts herself over the couch, letting out a huff of exhaustion once her back hits the plush cushion.

The gears in her mind keep spinning relentlessly.

What the hell was Regina planning? What price was she going to pay? Why did she feel all warm and tingly when Regina admitted her trip to the Underworld was for Emma?

A creak in the floorboards distracts Emma, her questioning thoughts slipping away. She jerks up from the couch and looks around behind her, trying to find the source of the sound.

"Swan?" Hook's figure appears from the dark shadows of her living area. "Have you been on that ghastly thing all night?"

"Yea, I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to wake you."

Hook steps closer until his facial expression comes into full view. "I heard you speaking to someone."

Guilt lodges itself at the back of her throat. "I was on the phone with Henry."

"Henry? What's the lad doing up so late?" Hook says skeptically.

Emma gets up from the couch and walks over to him. She takes his hand as he looks at her with suspicion in his eyes. "He was worried about me."

Although it was the truth, Hook doesn't seem to believe a word. Sure she may have left out the part where a heavy conversation took place between her and Regina, but what's the big deal?

It's just Regina.

"Let's go to bed," Emma suggests. "I'm getting kind of tired."

 

* * *

 

 

After ending the call with Emma, Regina rushes back to her study. She wants to complete this spell before she loses the audacity to cast it. Regina had grown somewhat doubtful about going through with her plan after spending an hour looking for the potion. But having Emma on board with it all made it less worrisome.

When Regina stammers back into her study, she finds Zelena sitting cross-legged on the leather armchair, reading a page in their mother's spell book.

Zelena looks up at her, bringing the book up to her chest, pages facing Regina. "What's this?"

Regina squints her eyes as she moves forward to get a better look. "You found it!"

"I found it on the floor, open on this particular page," she states with the quirk of her brow. "Why are your eyes all red? Were you crying?"

"No," Regina nearly barks as she snatches the book from her sister's hands. She begins to read off the page. Her heart beats rapidly with anticipation.

"Regina, what do you plan to do with a forgetting potion?"

She looks at Zelena and rolls her eyes. "I'm planning a trip to Paris."

"Don't be cheeky with me, sis, especially not at this hour."

Regina huffs out a deep breath. She closes the spell book over her index finger, ensuring she doesn't lose the page, and plops down in the leather chair facing Zelena. "I'm sorry, it's been a long night."

"It certainly has," she looks over at Mary-Margret who is still deep in the world of dreams. "Should we wake her?"

"No. Leave her be. This is the first night she's been able to sleep without worrying about Emma. I don't want to—"

A green puff of smoke covers Mary-Margret entirely and vanishes with her.

"Zelena! I just told you—"

"Oh relax will you?" Zelena says nonchalantly with the wave of her hand. "I transported her home, in the comfort of her own bed."

"Which is precisely what I wanted to avoid," Regina snaps. "Doing so may have woken her up."

Zelena clicks her tongue. "Oh boo hoo. We would have woken her anyway with all this magic talk."

"What magic talk?"

"You know, the part where you tell me why you're planning to brew a forgetting potion."

Regina opens the spellbook and studies the ingredients needed for the potion. "I'm not telling you a damn thing."

Zelena's shoulders drop with disappointment, pursing her lips with a frown. "You can't just leave a sister hanging. At least give me a hint."

Only Regina's eyes move, traveling up from the page and landing on Zelena with a hard glare.

"Fine. Shall I guess?"

"No."

"Who will you be using it on?" Zelena asks excitedly. She thinks to herself for a moment before a wicked grin comes to life. "Hook?"

Regina doesn't respond.

"Emma?"

Annoyance crawls through Regina's every limb. She continues reading.

"Henry?"

"Me!" Regina yells out. She pinches the bridge of her nose and breathes out. "I'm using it on myself. Okay? Are you satisfied?"

"Quite the contrary," Zelena says. "You've just awakened more questions."

"Of course I have," Regina mutters under her breath. "Because minding your own business is obviously out of the question."

Zelena stands up from her armchair and sits on the coffee table in front of Regina. The wicked smile is replaced with something else. A softer expression takes over, indicating she understood exactly what Regina was doing. "You want to forget Robin don't you?"

Regina's hands clasp together over the spellbook. She looks at her sister in defeat. "I've already made my decision. Don't try and talk me out of it."

"I think you're confusing me with the Charmings, dear."

Regina chuckles softly as her gaze drifts down to her tangled fingers.

"Well let's get on with it, shall we?" Zelena taps Regina on her knee as she gets up off the table. "What do we need?"

 

* * *

 

When Zelena agreed to assist in brewing the potion, they transported themselves to Regina's vault and searched for the required ingredients. After successfully retrieving each one, they quickly evaporated back into the study.

Brewing the potion was a lengthy process, and Regina wanted it to be in the comfort of her own home, especially at this late hour.

They worked quietly but efficiently, exchanging more ingredients than actual words. A system had been subconsciously created almost as soon as they began. It felt like they'd been creating magic together all their lives and Regina enjoyed every moment of it. With her and Zelena having being kept from each other for so long, she felt as though they were making up for lost time, bonding like real sisters were meant to.

They brew the potion to perfection. Regina doesn't even think her mother, could have done a better job.

Zelena pours the final ingredient into a small, metal goblet, engraved with a variety of lines and patterns. She pulls it closer to her chest when Regina reaches for it.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Zelena asks with concern.

"Yes."

"Regina, this will not only erase Robin, but it'll also wipe away every moment you've ever shared with him. Happy ones, sad ones, intimate ones, they'll all be lost. Your love for him will cease to exist."

Regina crosses her arms over her chest. "I'm familiar with the consequences."

"But are you willing to pay the price?"

At this point, Regina can't decide if "the price" is either erasing her memories of Robin or keeping them. She holds out her hand. "Give me the potion Zelena."

Zelena nods and hands her the goblet. Regina stares unnervingly at the purple contents inside, suddenly doubtful that this was the right solution. She wants to move on, but was this the right way? Of course not. It's the easy way out. But Regina has been aboard the hell train for far too long, and tonight she's changing route. She's taking charge of her destiny.

She downs the potion in one, swift motion. It glides smoothly down her throat as she sets the goblet over the table. From the moment she lets go, the cup disappears along with every other instrument and ingredient used to make the potion. The study is exactly as it was when she had first entered it.

A slight pressure tickles the surface of her brain, and there's a hum buzzing in her ears.

It's working.

She closes her eyes as the potion massages her brain. Everything starts to feel lighter one bit at a time. Her mind becomes less cluttered, her chest can finally rise with ease and the knots in her stomach straighten out at last.

And then everything stops.

She opens her eyes.

"So? How do you feel?" Zelena asks.

"Hm?"

"Did it work?"

Regina stares at her sister with a raised brow.

Zelena brings her palm up to her forehead. "Right, silly me. You're not supposed to remember anything."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Regina snaps, quickly losing patience.

"Let me start again," Zelena says. "Do you know who Robin Hood is?"

Regina frowns. "Is this supposed to be some kind of joke Zelena? Because now is really not the time."

"So you remember him?"

Regina nods, biting her lips inward to prevent the fuming rage from lashing through. If she was trying to push Regina's buttons, it's definitely working.

Zelena steps back looking completely baffled. She shakes her head. "I don't understand. It was perfect, it must have worked. Who on earth could have—Daniel. Do you remember Daniel?"

Slow breaths and warning eyes are all Regina's abled to respond with.

"Your father?"

Anger storms through every inch of Regina’s body. She clenches her jaw so tight, she's surprised her teeth don't rip through her gums. “Are you finished?”

Zelena rubs the tip of her chin. "Where's Henry?"

"Upstairs," Regina seethes.

"This doesn't make any sense. It must have erased something," Zelena mumbles to herself.

Regina heads over to the table and gathers the empty glasses, placing each rim between her fingers. "The only thing here that isn't making any sense is you. Now quit being crazy and help me clean up. The blankets go in the bottom drawer of my desk," Regina turns to Zelena before making her way out of the study and into her kitchen. "Fold them properly."

"Yes, of course, your Majesty," Zelena mocks, rolling her eyes.

In the kitchen, Regina settles the three glasses into the sink. She turns around and leans over the island facing the sink, blowing out a long, deep breath.

For the first time in days, she doesn't feel overwhelmed with emotions. Nothing races through her mind like previous nights.

Everything is still.

She's not at peace just yet, but this moment of tranquility is a step in the right direction.

It's a step forward. 


	4. Out of Sight, Out of Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I know it's been a while and I'm incredibly sorry for that...I got caught up in my hectic schedule these past few months. It's been one thing after another so I didn't have the time to keep the story going :( But the good news is I've finished chapter 4 and chapter 5 is coming along quite nicely so far!! So for those of you who are still interested in reading (I totally don't blame you if you've lost interest throughout this long pause lol), here's chapter 4! I hope you enjoy! As always your feedback is very much appreciated <3  
> -r

The sun rises the next morning, rays of light spilling through the crack in the curtains. Mary-Margret's eyes flutter open, squinting almost immediately as she tries to adjust to the morning brightness. Beside her, David sleeps soundly, his face buried in the pillow. She stares at him for a moment, admiring his peaceful state, and smiles. She doesn't exactly remember getting home from Regina's last night, but she's glad to be in her own bed, getting the one thing that only comes on rare occasions. Rest.

Rest was hard to come by in an eventful town like Storybrooke. As a matter of fact, there were times where rest was absolutely out of the question. With fighting off flying monkeys, battling against Wicked Witches and Dark Ones, and going up against the Lord of the Underworld, catching a break can be difficult, to say the least.

But today is different. Today, peace finally veils over the town, and Mary-Margret wants to revel in that as much as she can. She slides closer to David, snuggling into his side. If there's one thing Mary-Margret needs after spending the last few days in the hospital by Emma's bedside, it's sleep. And no amount of light can stop her from getting it. And neither will that loud bang coming from her living room. Wait...

Mary-Margret's eyes spring open as she shoots up from the bed, grasping her husband's forearm. "David!"

He jumps off the bed. "I heard it too. Get Neal from his crib."

Mary-Margret rushes over to the baby, locking him in her arms. Her heart races in fear as David pulls out his sword from behind the nightstand.

"Stay here," he warns her.

Mary-Margret eyes him with a cocked brow until he gives in, agreeing that she should follow.

In slow, quiet steps, the two make their way towards the doorway of their bedroom. David holds his sword out in front of him, pointing it down to the wood flooring.

They both freeze at the sound of heels clicking their way into the apartment and Mary-Margret can hear her heart hammering in her ears.

Whoever this person was, they've ticked her last nerve. Not only had they broken into her apartment, but they've also spoiled any chance of Mary-Margret having a day dedicated to rest.

"Show yourself!" David yells out as he bolts from the bedroom, heading straight towards the front door.

It's not long before she hears David sigh in what sounds like relief. Her curiosity peaks even higher than it already had. Why on earth would David be relieved to see whoever broke into their home? And who would feel the need to burst their door open if all they had to do was knock?

The answer to her second question is quickly answered when Mary-Margret steps out of the bedroom.

David's shoulders drop from the tense, provoked state that previously consumed him. He leans his sword against the metal staircase and crosses his arms. "Does knocking mean nothing to you?"

Mary-Margret shifts Neal into one arm and walks into the kitchen, glaring at the woman before them.

In a black blazer and a leather skirt so tight Mary-Margret wonders how the woman even walks, Zelena sits casually at the dining table wearing a devilish grin. "Now where's the fun in that?"

It takes everything in Mary-Margret not to lash out at her and her ridiculous mindset. She clenches her jaw and gets right to the point. "What is it you need Zelena?"

Zelena brings her palm up to her chest. She scoffs as her eyes widen, seemingly offended by Mary-Margret's assumption. "Why is my being here an automatic presumption that I need something from you? Can't I just pay a visit?"

Mary-Margret raises her brow in disbelief. She's no fool, and she knows Zelena well enough to say that she'd never just "pay a visit." She tilts her head to the side and gives the woman a stern look.

"Just paying a visit huh?" David asks, chuckling lightly as he joins Mary-Margret behind the kitchen island.

He reaches into the kitchen cabinet and pulls out two mugs as Mary-Margret fills the coffee machine with freshly ground beans.

Zelena frowns. "Why do you both find this so difficult to believe?"

Mary-Margret knows Zelena's pride wouldn't let her admit to needing assistance. She sets Neal down into his feeding chair as the coffee begins to brew. "Zelena, please. Anytime you make an appearance into our apartment is either because there's a problem at hand or you have some twisted scheme that involves my baby."

Zelena looks up to the ceiling, as though trying to recall a moment that might prove Mary-Margret wrong. She lifts her forefinger and opens her mouth for a moment before letting her hand fall. "Fair enough. Alright, we may have a slight problem."

"Shocker," Mary-Margret says, rolling her eyes.

"Hang on," David cuts in, making his way around the kitchen island and toward Zelena. He rests his hands on his hips. "Do _we_ have a problem? Or do _you_?"

Zelena's eyes drop to the floor, pressing her lips together before looking back up to David and Mary-Margret. "Well if we're going to get technical, it's Regina's problem."

Mary-Margret wonders if she truly wants the answer to her next question. Bracing herself, she shuts her eyes and exhales deeply. "What did you two do?"

 

* * *

 

Emma checks her cell phone for what feels like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes. Each time, she's only been greeted with the same disappointing result, the time and her tacky phone background. From the moment she hopped out of bed—at precisely 8:45 AM—she's been waiting for Regina's name to light up her screen.

During their conversation on the phone last night, Regina told her she and Henry would be at Emma's house for 10:00 AM. With Regina, 10:00 AM meant 10:00 AM. Not a minute earlier, not a minute later. Which is why it worries her to some degree to see the time read 10:15 AM on her lock screen and _still_ no message from Regina.

She paces the length of her foyer with her hands on her hips, trying to come up with any possible conclusion as to why Regina would be running late. Even with all the logical possibilities she comes up with, something doesn't sit right with Emma. There's a gnawing feeling in her gut that tells her something isn't right.

Emma's quickly distracted from her thoughts when the sound of a car engine rumbles from down the street. She freezes in her step, excitement sparking throughout her entire core. Maybe Regina simply _was_ late.

She bolts to the door and peeps her head through. Her excitement intensifies when the roaring engine heightens in sound.

Emma's heart hammers in her ears as the car drives closer. She walks out onto the porch in hopes of seeing Regina's Mercedes pull up into her driveway. Instead, she watches an unknown car zoom past her house, disappearing once it turned left down another street.

Her chest sinks as she exhales and the hope that Regina would make an appearance slowly begins to fade.

Making her way back into the house, Emma gently shuts the door behind her and lets herself fall flat against it. She leans her head back onto the finished wood, taking in a deep breath.

It's not long before Emma's mind starts to race again. The unsettling feeling from earlier still gnaws at her, and she can't shake it off. Maybe she should call? She thinks about it for a moment and decides against it. Emma doesn't want to be an annoyance, and certainly not towards Regina.

But the time hits 10:35 AM when Emma checks her phone once more. This wasn't like Regina; the woman was never late.

Emma pushes herself off the door and begins pacing throughout her foyer, this time in circles. With one hand on her hip and the other over her forehead, worry settles deeper into her core.

Her steps quicken, and suddenly all surroundings fade as her thoughts land on Regina. Usually, something like this wouldn't faze Emma. But when her gut goes berserk like it is today, shooting warning signals through her body like a beaming red laser, she knows there's something unusual about the situation.

Emma falters in her step when she feels a firm hand grasp her bicep from behind. She stops.

"Is everything alright, love?" Killian asks, loosening his grip on Emma's arm.

She turns around to face him as she slips out of his hold. "Yeah, everything is fine."

Killian studies her carefully. He takes a step towards her, gently placing the palms of his hands over her shoulders. "Are you sure? You seem a tad distraught."

Emma reaches for the back of her neck and forces a small smirk. "I'm fine, Killian."

"Is that so?" Killian asks with a light chuckle. He pulls her in closer, eyeing her with an arched brow. "Please forgive me, I wasn't aware that circling the foyer like a madwoman meant that one was 'fine.'"

Emma is all too conscious of the fact that he sees right through her. She looks up at him, and she can see the genuine concern seep through his warm smile. "It's Regina."

The corners of his mouth drop, the soft look on his face stiffens the moment the name leaves Emma's lips.

"What about her?" He asks dryly, barely able to look her in the eye.

He slides his hands off her shoulders and takes a step back. This wasn't the first time she's seen Killian react this way. In fact, almost every time Emma's worry had something to do with Regina, he became distant, to say the least. They had never really spoken about it before, and Emma secretly hopes it stays that way. She knows it would start an argument, one that she quite honestly isn't in the mood for. She'd bring it up another time if she had to, but right now, Regina and Henry are her primary concern.

"Swan?"

Emma's eyes snap up. She realizes she hasn't spoken for a while, but getting into detail about the whole situation doesn't seem ideal. So she stays silent. The awkward tension between them spreads throughout the room like smoke, making it harder for her to breathe. She stuffs her hands into her pockets. "It's nothing. I'm going to stop by my parents' place, they might be able to help."

"I'll accompany you."

Emma holds up her palm and sighs. "It's alright, I think it's better I go alone."

Killian advances towards her, gently lowering her raised hand with his steel hook. "I don't think it's safe for you to be driving, love. You've only just recovered."

"I'll be okay."

"Alright then," Killian says in a quiet murmur. "If you need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to call. I'm here for you Swan."

Emma nods, doing her best to put on a smile.

Before she can turn to the door, Killian takes her by the hip and pulls her in. He kisses her tenderly, lovingly, in a way that every kiss should be, but all Emma can feel is his scruffy beard scratching the edge of her lips.

She slips from his hold, pulling away from the kiss. "I've got to get going. I'll see you soon."

Killian exhales in a sad smile. "Right, I'll be here."

Emma smiles back at him briefly before stepping out the door. Guilt washes over her for not including him, or even refusing to explain the situation for that matter, but there's some sort of relief to it as well. She's free from the tension-polluted air that occupies her home. She needs a clear head if she's going to figure out why Regina hadn't shown up.

She doesn't exactly have a plan of action, but Emma has a strong feeling that going to see her parents would send her in the right direction.

 

* * *

 

 

Mary-Margret leans back against the kitchen counter, tapping her fingers against the granite as she waits for Zelena to speak up. She hasn't said a single word. All David and Mary-Margret had gotten out of her was that Regina may have been in a small predicament—though how _'small'_ Mary-Margret isn't sure. She and Zelena had two different definitions of what the word meant.

The ring from the coffee machine fills the silence in the room. With little hope that Zelena might say something, Mary-Margret sighs and pours herself a cup. She has a feeling they'll be here for a while.

"Just come out with it Zelena," David all but commands, seemingly losing patience.

The woman remains silent.

David and Mary-Margret watch her stare into space with a slight frown, as though she was mentally trying to work something out.

Mary-Margret begins to worry that this might be a slightly bigger problem than she initially thought.

David quietly steps backward until he reaches Mary-Margret behind the kitchen island. He leans into her shoulder, keeping his line of vision on Zelena. "What's wrong with her?"

Mary-Margret holds her mug to her lips, taking a small sip before tilting her head. "I'm not sure, I've never seen her like this before."

'Quiet' has never been one of Zelena's personality traits. As a matter of fact, Mary-Margret doesn't even know if it's in the woman's vocabulary. She's usually fired up, finding every possible opportunity to throw in a snarky comment but for the past fifteen minutes, she's done nothing but stare at either the ceiling or the floor. Clearly whatever's on her mind is having some effect on her.

"Zelena," David says, walking over to her. "If we're going to help Regina, you need to tell us what happened."

Zelena snaps her head up, looking at both David and Mary-Margret. "Right."

"Do you want some coffee?" Mary-Margret asks as she takes down a mug from the cabinet.

"Please."

She pours Zelena a cup and brings it to her along with a spoon, sugar and a small carton of milk.

"Thank you."

Mary-Margret nods before taking a seat at the dining table beside Zelena. "Tell us what happened."

Zelena stirs her coffee and lets out a deep breath. She looks between David and Mary-Margret. "Well, you see, Regina may have taken some of your advice quite literally last night."

David turns to Mary-Margret. "What did you tell her?"

"Nothing, I told her to—" Mary-Margret cuts herself off, the events of last night replaying in her mind. She gently sets her mug on the table and looks into the empty space in front of her. "I...I told her to let go."

The confusion on David's face continues to spread as he looks over to Zelena who is now nodding her head.

"And she did," Zelena adds. "Or attempted to at least."

"What do you mean by that?" Mary-Margaret asks, afraid of what the answer will be.

Zelena swallows. "We may have brewed a memory potion."

David snaps his head back to Zelena. He pulls out a chair next to Mary-Margret and sits down. "Why would she want a memory potion? Who did she want to forget?"

"Robin," Mary-Margret replies with a sigh, knowing full well the lengths Regina would go to in order move to on and, as she told her to do last night, let go.

"Precisely," Zelena nods. "But there's one other thing"

Mary-Margret sighs as she rests her head in her palm. “What?"

"It didn't work."

David leans over the table, seeming sceptical about the whole thing. "She didn't forget Robin? So what's the problem?"

Mary-Margret sits back for a moment and takes a sip of her coffee, waiting for the next bomb. By the look on Zelena's face, she knows there's more to come.

Zelena rolls her eyes, "The problem, Prince Charming, is that the potion was brewed to perfection. It worked, but Robin isn't the one she forgot."

Mary-Margret furrows her brows. "Are you sure? Maybe you two missed an ingredient? What else could explain it?"

"She's right," David adds in, "Aren't memory potions tailored to the user? If you brewed it so she would forget Robin, then it should have worked."

Mary-Margret turns to David, impressed with his knowledge on the subject. She's curious to hear how Zelena would counter his statement.

"They are," Zelena replies. "However, this particular potion had a little bit of a twist. Rather than having it attack all memories of Robin, we made it so it would target the memories of her true love."

Mary-Margret frowns as confusion sets in. In her mind, the logical explanation is simple. The potion simply didn't work. But Zelena seems to have her heart set on the idea that it had, and Mary-Margret can't understand why she’s so adamant about it. She may not fully understand the laws of magic as well as Zelena does, but she can't think of any other reason as to why Regina still remembers Robin.

Zelena jerks up from her chair and begins to pace the length of the dining table. "I'm confident that it worked."

"How are you so sure?" Mary-Margret asks.

"The tools we used, the ingredients, the chalice she drank from...they've all disappeared," Zelena explains with frustration, as though she too was having difficulty figuring out where the spell went wrong, or if it ever did. She stops pacing and leans over the back of the dining chair facing David and Mary-Margret. "When I asked her if it worked, she hadn't had the slightest clue as to what I was referring to. These are all indications that the potion was indeed successful."

Finally having a better understanding, Mary-Margret nods. She cups the sides of her mug and sets it down on the table. "Okay, so you said it was meant to erase her memories of her true love. If she still remembers Robin, it could very well mean that he wasn't her true love after all."

Mary-Margret takes a moment to consider who else Regina may have forgotten, mentally flipping through everyone that may occupy her heart. She looks to Zelena, "Have you asked her about Daniel?"

Zelena simply nods.

"Henry?" David asks, catching on.

"Yes."

Mary-Margret jumps in, "What about her father?"

"She's familiar with them all," Zelena says hopelessly with the shake of her head.

None of this made any sense. They've asked about the four most important men in Regina's life and she remembers them all. Mary-Margret searches her mind and tries to think of any other person who could be considered as the woman's true love. It's a difficult task considering Regina did not open her heart to just anyone. After such a substantial amount of loss in her life, Mary-Margret doesn't blame her. It's difficult to believe in fate after it's let you down so many times.

David shakes his head, at a lost with the entire scenario. "If she remembers them then who could she have possibly—"

The door swings open. "Mom? Dad?"

Mary-Marget's mouth drops. It can't be. Yet it makes perfect sense. How could she have missed it?

Emma hurries into the apartment. "Have you seen Regina? She won't answer any of my calls and I was supposed to meet her at 10AM today."

"David," Mary-Margret blurts out in an unsteady whisper, her eyes still locked onto her daughter.

David's eyes practically bulge from their sockets. He swallows hard and nods, confirming Mary-Margret's thought.

Zelena darts her attention to Emma then back at David and Mary-Margret. "What on earth are you two—" she follows their gaze once more, a smirk forming over her lips once her eyes reach Emma. "Oh, my."

 

* * *

 

Emma reluctantly slides her leather jacket off her shoulders, sensing by the look on her parents' faces that she'd be here longer than she had anticipated. She hangs the jacket on one of the three hooks by the front door, watching her parents with a raised brow.

Her sight shifts back and forth between her mother and father. They wear a look of shock, combined with one of sudden understanding. It feels as though Emma's walking in had sparked some sort of idea in their heads.

Zelena's smirk grows wider, making Emma feel all the more uneasy. She brings her palms together. "Well this turned out to be a lovely sequence of events hasn't it?"

"This isn't funny, Zelena," David says in a sharp tone.

Emma's curiosity peaks. She steps closer to the dining table. "What isn't funny?"

David pushes himself off the chair and walks over to Emma, resting his palm over her shoulder.

Her body feels heavy now that worry begins to flood her core. She looks quickly between her mother and father. "Guys? What's going on?"

Mary-Margret sighs. "Regina...she—"

"She's home," Zelena interrupts. "Haven't you thought to check there before you came crying to mum and dad?"

Heat rises up Emma's neck. She crosses her arms, giving Zelena a hard glare. "I have thought about checking there, but something in my gut led me here."

"I see," Zelena grins.

Mary-Margret stands up from her chair. "Emma we should—"

"Well get a move on then!" Zelena places her palm on Emma's upper back, pushing her out the door. "We don't want to keep her waiting now, do we? I'm sure she'll be delighted to see you."

Zelena's unusual enthusiasm sends alarming waves up and down Emma's spine. Something doesn't feel right. Emma tries to push against the woman but Zelena doesn't let up. Instead, she grabs Emma's leather jacket off the hook and all but throws it at her before slamming the door shut.

Emma reaches for the knob but it doesn't budge. "Zelena open the door!"

"Will you stop being so uptight and go see Regina?"

She jerks the knob harder. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"Go!" Zelena commands from inside the apartment.

Emma breathes in a deep, slow breath, in attempts to suppress the surging rage. She hears her mother on the other side of the door. Moving in closer, she listens carefully.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Move out of the way and let her in," her mother snaps.

"We don't even know that it's Emma!" Zelena points out. "What's the harm in finding out?"

Silence surrounds the apartment until Emma hears her father speak up.

"She's a human being Zelena, not one of your flying monkeys. You can’t just toy with her emotions."

"We need to tell her," she hears her mother say.

"She's a big girl, she can find out on her own. Besides, I think it would be far more entertaining this way," Zelena says, and just by the sound of her voice, Emma could see the smug smirk plastered on the woman's face.

Emma backs away from the door, releasing her grip form the knob. She can hear her heart pounding in her ears. What the hell were they talking about? What did she have to find out? This whole conversation made her stomach churn.

Emma's breath quickens. Something is obviously wrong and for one reason or another, going to Regina's was going to give her the answer as to what.

She bolts down the stairs, unwilling to waste another minute. If Zelena wanted her to go to Regina's, then that's where she'd go. Just the thought of either Regina or Henry in danger has her pulse racing.

Emma jumps into her yellow bug, quickly shoves the key in the ignition and drives off.

Pulling up to the curb, Emma hastily scans the outside of the mansion. She exhales at the sight of Regina's black Mercedes parked in the driveway.

They were home.

She heads toward the main entrance in a light jog, stumbling over the first step of Regina's front porch. Emma regains her balance and takes a deep breath. Besides Regina not showing up this morning, nothing seemed out of the ordinary just yet.

She wastes no time in ringing the bell, knowing well how deceiving looks can be.

No answer. Emma rings the doorbell again.

She waits. Still no answer.

Panic rises at the back of her throat. To hell with being polite.

"Regina?" she calls out, knocking frantically at the door.

"Regi—"

The door opens slightly, just enough to expose Regina's face. "Can I help you?"

Emma takes a second look, immediately drawn by the woman's appearance. Something in the way she looks has Emma flushed at the cheeks. There’s a natural glow radiating from her, one Emma has rarely—if not ever—seen. Regina wears a fresh face, void of any makeup and her usually well-behaved hair, falls in reckless waves, cutting short just above her shoulders. Soft rays kiss olive toned skin and bring a distinct focus to chocolate eyes. Emma’s breath gets caught in her throat, words suddenly lost in her mind.

"Hello?"

She's been staring too long. Emma quickly clears her throat and smiles. "Hi."

Regina raises a brow, sliding through the crack of the door before shutting it behind her. "I'm sorry, you are?"

"Very funny. Why aren't you dressed?” Emma asks, noticing Regina’s silk pyjamas. “I've been waiting for you all morning. Did something happen?"

"I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about—" She pauses, squinting to read Emma's badge as she crosses her arms. "—Sheriff, but—"

"Sheriff? What the hell Regina?"

Regina's arms fall from her chest and land straight onto her hips. "Excuse me? Do you know who you're speaking to? In case you haven't noticed, I happen to be the mayor of this town, and I can strip you of that badge faster than you can slip on that cheap red leather, you call a jacket."

"Um, okay harsh much? What's with you?"

"Listen, Sheriff, I don't know who you are, or how the hell you managed to persuade David into hiring you, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd remove yourself from my property," Regina says, sending daggers through her eyes.

Emma hadn't seen that look since they first met and she certainly didn't miss it. She takes a step forward, intentionally doing the exact opposite of what Regina had told her. "I didn't ' _persuade_ ' him into hiring me. And can you maybe stop calling me Sheriff?"

"What exactly am I meant to call you?"

"Uh, how about my name?"

"Which is?"

"Okay, Regina will you cut it out? This isn't funny."

Regina's brows raise, her eyes blinking wildly as if stunned by Emma's attitude. The space between them disappears in a flash, Regina's face only millimeters away from Emma's. "What 'isn't funny' is how you're still standing in front of me after I very clearly asked you to leave. Good day Sheriff."

Regina turns her back to Emma, slamming the door once she steps back inside. Emma's mind floods with confusion. She stands on the porch, unable to move. What the hell just happened? She wants to believe that maybe Regina was playing some kind of cruel practical joke but she isn't convinced in the slightest.

Emma knows when people aren't telling the truth, especially when it comes to Regina. Not only is she a human lie detector, but Emma had always been able to read Regina in a way nobody ever could, and there was something about her that seemed off. Regina didn't look at Emma the way she usually does. With the gleam in her eyes that Emma just can't shake off. With the loving smile that makes it hard for Emma to even think. No, this time Regina looked at her as though she was a stranger, like everything they had been through hadn't even happened. It burned a hole in Emma's heart to be greeted with the blank professional mask that Regina only used for those she didn't particularly care for. Had Emma transitioned over to that list? She couldn't have. This wasn't right, none of it was.

Now that she thinks of it, Regina wasn't the only one acting strangely. When Emma had walked into her parents' apartment, not only was Zelena in there too—which in itself was already strange—but all three of them looked at her like she was the answer they were all looking for. It didn't help when she mentioned Regina's name either. She knew something was up then, and after seeing Regina, she has a gnawing feeling in her gut that both are connected in some way.  

  

* * *

 

Having walked back to her parents' apartment, this time with much more frustration than earlier, Emma swings the door open. She storms in with full intent on interrogating her parents, this time getting the answers she wanted. But the moment she meets her mother’s eyes, the heat slips straight from her like water through fingertips. Everything she had planned to say fades from her mind, leaving behind five heart-wrenching words. She stands completely still. "She looked right through me."

David immediately pushes himself off the couch and Mary-Margret rushes to Emma's side. She places a comforting hand on Emma's back, her face etched with concern. "Regina?"

Reality only settles deeper in Emma's chest when she hears her name. She swallows, still unable to make any movement.

"Emma, before you start blaming this entire thing on yourself, there's something your father and I have to explain."

Finally, she'd be getting some answers. She turns to face both her parents who now stand side by side. Her father's hands fall over his hips, and Emma knows it isn't a good sign. She's come to learn over time that this stance was never the one bearing good news. Her sight bounces back and forth between the two. "What the hell happened?"

David sighs. "You should sit down."

Emma's stomach begins to coil as her heart pounds hard against her chest. She reluctantly backs up until she finds a chair and takes a seat.

"It's about Regina," David says, kneeling down to her level.

Mary-Margret pulls a chair out from under the dining table and sits beside Emma. "She took a potion last night."

Emma snaps her head up, giving Mary-Margret her full attention. "What kind of potion?"

"A memory potion."

 

* * *

 

Emma grips both sides of her steering wheel, her knuckles practically bearing through her skin. The engine blares when her foot presses harder against the gas pedal. Driving down Main Street, Emma still has trouble processing the oh-so-tremendous news. She runs the entire scenario through her mind for what feels like the hundredth time.

Based on what her parents told her, Regina brewed a memory potion last night in order to forget her true love. That was the "plan" Regina was telling Emma about on the phone last night. It makes sense, she wanted to start fresh, let go of all the pain and grief she was feeling. Emma can't blame Regina in the slightest. She knows how hard Regina fights; she knows how difficult it is for her to be happy when she's at a constant battle with herself. What irks Emma though—in a way she can't categorize as pleasant or bothersome—is the last part her parents had told her.

The part where they said it didn't work.

She remembers Robin, her soul mate, her apparent true love, the man she risked her life for.

Every single damned detail of every person in Regina's life still lingers in her mind, untouched, except for one. Emma.

Did that mean—no it couldn't. It must have been some sort of mistake...a missing ingredient or something along those lines. There's no way in hell Emma was Regina's—

She can't help but notice her heart flutter at the thought of it. And the tingle in her chest that flourishes down to her core. Suddenly nothing around her had any sense to it, yet everything felt like it was coming together all at the same time.

Emma slams the breaks, pulling a dead stop right before turning onto Milflin Street. What was she doing? Was going to Regina's house really the best thing right now? Shouldn't she be talking about this with someone? Anyone else? Maybe. But right now, it's the only place she wants to be. And before she knows it, Emma's turning left on Milflin, pulling back up into the woman's driveway.

 


	5. In With the New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all of you who are still on this wonderful ride with me, I want to thank you for the support from the bottom of my heart! I know it can be frustrating since I don't update as often as I'd like but I promise I'm doing my best.   
> I really loved writing this next chapter so I hope you all enjoy! It's shorter than my previous chapters but only because it would allow me to have an easier transition into chapter 6.   
> This is where the story really begins :) Remember, your feedback is always greatly appreciated!!  
> Enjoy <3 
> 
> -r

           Regina pours herself a cup of freshly brewed coffee. She watches the rich blend trickle into her mug as the steam rises, filling her kitchen with its delightful scent. She stops pouring once the coffee reaches the rim and picks up the cup with both hands, wrapping her fingers around it in a tight snug. Leaning back on the kitchen counter, Regina brings the cup up to her lips before inhaling deeply. Coffee is certainly a necessity after the eventful morning she had.

           Not only had Regina slept well past the usual time she wakes up at—which in itself is already upsetting as Regina cherishes her mornings—but she hadn't even woken up on her own accord. She was woken up brusquely by the constant ringing of her doorbell, as though someone was in a panic. She rushed down the stairs, thinking up the worst possible scenarios. The first thing that crossed her mind was Henry, even though she knew he was sound asleep in his bedroom. She then thought about the possibility of someone who had gone missing, or of another villain who had entered Storybrooke in hopes of destroying everyone. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Nor the last for that matter. But all the horrible hypothetical events that were running through her mind were gone in a flash when she opened the door to find that mystifying blonde on her front porch.

            Regina takes a sip of her coffee, savoring the warm brew. Her eyes are fixed on the bowl of crisp red apples ahead of her on the kitchen island, but her mind continues to roam the mysterious woman who showed up at her door that morning. She can't help but feel like she's seen this woman before. The blonde locks, the goofy smile, the somewhat nervous stance and the less than sensible fashion sense were all too familiar. There’s something that has Regina almost certain that she and this woman have crossed paths before.

           She shakes her head, ridding herself of the useless presumptions. So what if Regina had met her before? Does she even care? What was the likelihood that Regina even liked this so-called sheriff? She was quite rude, to say the least, and Regina can't be bothered by those who haven't taken a basic lesson on manners. Perhaps she’d set her straight if she were to ever run into the blonde again, but for now she would enjoy the remaining’s of her morning.

            Regina moves out of the kitchen into and steps into the living room. She slides the curtains open with the wave of her finger, before gently letting herself fall into the couch.

            Ever since Robin’s passing, mornings have become quite difficult. Before she’d wake up there’d be a moment she wished would last forever. The time where her dream fades to black and her body drifts slowly into consciousness, where she’s traveling between a world of dreams and reality. It’s then and only then where for a split second, she’d forget. She’d think for a moment that Robin was still alive, lying beside her.

            And then she’d open her eyes. A state of bliss shattered almost as fast as it came together. As of now, waking up was nothing more than a dreadful reminder that she was alone.

            To Regina’s relief, the sound of her cellphone blares from inside her study. She can’t bear to think about Robin any longer. Her heart is still too fragile and the subject of his passing still too delicate to ponder over.

            Coffee still in hand, Regina walks into her study. She’s more than happy for the distraction and quite frankly, she could use a good talk right about now. She reaches for her phone from across the front of her desk, knocking over a wooden black picture frame with her forearm. The frame falls face down to the floor with a fatal thud. The ringer stops.

            Regina winces, biting down on her lower lip. She glances down at her feet, hoping the damage isn’t nearly as bad as the way it sounded. She exhales in relief. It’s still intact. She takes a quick peak over at her phone, which revealed that the missed call had been from Zelena. She types in a quick message, stating that she’d call back soon.

            Setting her mug onto her desk, Regina bends down to the floor and picks up the frame. She flips it over and finds herself staring at a picture she doesn’t recognize.

            In the middle of the photo, Henry stands with a beaming smile, looking directly at the camera. On his right, Regina is in the midst of laughter with her arm around his waist. Unlike Henry though, she isn’t looking into the camera, nor is she looking at her son. Regina furrows her brows, following the direction of her gaze in the photo. She’s looking at —

            Her mouth drops. She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head before focusing on the photo once more. How in the hell? This was impossible. Surely it had been tampered with, or produced from scratch somehow. After all, technology proves to be quite handy nowadays. Regina can’t think of anything else to explain it. How else could she explain staring into the eyes of a giggling blonde? A blonde who caresses Henry in a mother-like fashion and who’s gaze travels back to Regina. The exact blonde who showed up at her door this morning.

            Regina thinks hard but doesn’t have any recollection of this photo whatsoever. However, something about it seems authentic. Though she doesn’t want to believe it, emotions like these couldn’t be fabricated—even with the advancement of today’s technology. She’s never seen herself quite this happy before, not even in the photos of her and Robin.

            Regina’s thoughts are interrupted by the sound of her doorbell. She rolls her eyes. Peace is clearly never an option in Storybrooke.

            She pulls the door open slightly, just enough to peep her head through the crack. She’d already let one person see her in pajamas this morning, and she’d like to keep it that way.

            “You again,” Regina snaps, frowning at the blonde on her porch. She yanks the door open. “I need to have a word with you.”

            The woman holds her palms up to her chest. “Look Regina, I know you might be upset with how things went earlier but I just wanted to—“

            “What the hell is this?” Regina holds the picture up for the blonde to see.

            The woman stops. She takes the frame, smiling down at the picture within. “This is my favorite picture of us. I can’t believe you had it framed.”

            Regina’s patience wears thin. “What I _want_ to know is where the hell it came from.”

            “I know. That’s why I’m here,” she states. She holds her hand out. “I’d like to restart. My name is Emma Swan, it’s very nice to meet you.”

            Regina reluctantly shakes Emma’s hand.

            She eyes the woman from top to bottom, studying her as though trying to place where she’s seen her before. Regina’s eyes roam from the waves of her luscious blonde locks to the curve of her hips, noticing the way her white tank raises just slightly, enough to expose a small portion of a firm stomach.

            “Can I come in?” Emma asks.

            Regina swallows hard, realizing she hadn’t yet let go of Emma’s hand. “Please.”

            She gestures Emma inside, closing the door behind her. Once in the middle of the foyer, Emma stops and looks at the photo once more.

            Regina takes hesitant steps toward the blonde. “So this picture…it’s—“

            “Real, yes,” Emma says, glancing back up at her. “Where did you find it?”

            “My study,” Regina replies. “I accidentally knocked it over.”

            Emma smiles, seeming pleased with the fact that Regina had the photo displayed.

            “Why do I have it?” Regina asks, losing patience. “How could I be in a photo I’ve never seen, and with a person I’ve never met?”

            Emma runs a hand through her curls. “Can we talk somewhere private? Your study maybe?”

            The idea of her and a woman whom she’s just met behind a closed door uneases her. Regina crosses her arms. “We can talk in the living room.”

            Emma nods and moves toward the living room before taking a seat on the couch. Regina follows her. She’s hesitant to sit beside her so she opts on sitting on the love seat across from the blonde instead.

            Silence veils over them as she waits for Emma to speak. The way the blonde’s leg nervously bounces off the floor tells Regina that the topic they’re about to touch upon might be one of extreme delicacy.   

            “I’m not sure how to put this but—” Emma looks Regina in the eye, placing the frame down onto the coffee table in front of her. “—we _have_ met before…five years ago actually, right on your front porch.”

            That’s ridiculous. Regina would surely remember meeting someone like Emma. She’d be lying if she described Emma as being ‘awfully vanilla.’ The woman has a sort of charm to her, one that Regina can’t seem to brush off. She leans back into the armchair with a scoff. “You can’t be serious.”

            Emma leans forward. “I know it sounds silly but—“

                  “ _Silly_ is hardly the word I would use, dear.”

            “Please, just hear me out,” Emma pleads.

            Regina’s shoulders drop at the vulnerability seeping through Emma’s eyes. She can see the way they flood with pain and torment, waves crashing violently in ocean blue waters. She exhales, nodding. “Alright, suppose we did meet when you say we did. If that were true, then why don’t I know who you are?”

            Emma inches toward the edge of the couch. “See this is where it gets a little complicated.”

            Regina laughs. “At this point, nothing you say can faze me.”

            “Right,” Emma chuckles nervously. “Well, here’s the thing…”

            Emma pauses, her gaze leaving Regina’s. She runs a hand through her hair and stands up. Regina examines the way she begins to pace the length of the living room, alongside the fireplace. Her heart beats rapidly in her chest when Emma stops pacing and walks towards her, taking a seat directly in front of her on the living room table.

            Blue eyes meet brown and Regina stills. Her breathing slows and her heart rate returns to a normal pace. The blood in her veins flows through her with the current of lazy river. Her body succumbs to the stare without any consent, relinquishing all walls that surround her heart. It’s as though it recognizes Emma and welcomes her like an old friend. What normally takes years, Emma did in less than a day.

            Frustration begins to boil in Regina’s core at how easily she loses composure in front of the blonde. Enough is enough. She refuses to make a fool of herself any longer. Regina straightens her back and crosses her legs, forcing her walls back into play. “I believe you were saying something, Miss Swan?”                                                                                                                                       Emma swallows hard and shakes her head. “Right, sorry. I’m just gonna get right down to it then.”

            “Please.”

            “It starts with Robin’s death.”

            A fire erupts in Regina’s chest the moment the words leave Emma’s lips. She pushes herself off the armchair. “I’m in no mood to discuss this.”

            She attempts to walk away but is quickly stopped when Emma’s hand slides over Regina’s wrist. Regina looks down at the contact between them, watching as Emma’s hand travels down to her own. “I know it’s been hard on you.”

            Regina’s eyes wallow up in tears. She looks away when a drop falls down her cheek, yet finds herself clenching harder onto Emma’s hand. A stranger’s hand. But somehow this _stranger_ doesn’t feel like one and Regina’s mind is unable to make sense of anything anymore.                 She presses her trembling lips into a thin line, attempting to hide the sobs compiling at the back of her throat. “Miss Swan, you will drop this topic or so help me.”

            “You wanted to move on, you wanted to let go and start fresh,” Emma pushes further.

            “That’s enough.”

            “And I supported you,” Emma says, still caressing Regina’s hand. “I know how much loss you’ve had to cope with and I wanted this one to be easier.”

            Regina’s eyes burn with new tears. Her chest tightens as the sobs at the back of her throat threaten to escape. She takes a step back, sliding her hand out of Emma’s. “What the hell are you talking about?”

            “You wanted to escape the pain, so you took a memory potion,” Emma explains. “You wanted give up your memories of Robin.”

            “If that were true, I’d have no recollection of him. I’ve brewed my fair share of memory potions dear and trust me when I say that if I did what you say I did, it would have worked,” Regina argues.

            Emma takes a step forward, decreasing the space between them. “Except this one didn’t because you didn’t alter it to Robin.”

            “Who else would I possibly alter it to?”

            “You made it so you’d forget your true love.”

            Regina laughs through newly shed tears. “And in this little story of yours, I suppose that would be you?”

            “It took me by surprise too,” Emma admits.

            “You’re delusional, dear.”

            Regina brushes past Emma and makes her way out of the living room. She has enough to deal with as it is. The last thing she needs is some deranged woman giving her this absurd story about how Regina’s love for Robin had never been true.

            She struts toward the kitchen, having no intentions to humor the blonde any longer.

            “Regina,” Emma pleads from behind her.

            She stops in the middle of the foyer, frozen at the way her name flowed through Emma’s lips. There was a tenderness to it, as though it wasn’t _just_ a name. It was a feeling. And it tugs at Regina’s heart in a way that she hasn’t been familiar with since the age of 18.

            “Try to believe me.”

            Part of her wants to, but the other part fears what the potential truth might mean for her. To think that her love for Robin had been a lie is difficult enough to take in, but to believe that her heart had all along been in the hands of Emma Swan? It’s all too much. Regina remains put, her back still facing the blonde. “I think I—“

            “Mom!” Henry shouts in excitement from the top of the stairs.

            Regina furrows her brows as he bolts down the foyer, not running toward her but into the arms of—

            “You’re here! You’re okay!” he says, wrapping himself around Emma.

            Emma smiles and returns the embrace. “I’m okay kid.”

            Henry turns to Regina. “Mom why didn’t you wake me? Never mind that, I gotta go get ready!”

            Regina watches him sprint back up the stairs and into his room. She can’t find a single word that could help express the state she’s in. She finds herself blinking rapidly as she looks back at Emma. “You’re Henry’s birth mother?”

            Emma stuffs one hand into the front pocket of her jeans and brings the other to her forehead. “God that is not how I wanted you to find out.”

            Ever since Emma stepped foot into Regina’s home the ground had been slipping out from under her with every passing second. She searches for the closest thing to lean on, deciding to grab onto the staircase railing. “I need a drink.”

            Regina pushes herself off the railing and regains her balance. She straightens out her silk pajamas and exhales sharply, attempting to regain a sense of dignity. “How would you like a glass of the best apple cider you’ve ever tasted?”

            Emma smirks. “Got anything stronger?”

            Regina stills. Something about this moment feels strangely familiar but she can’t quite put her finger on it. All she knows is that fighting Emma would serve no use. Based on this newly learned, highly significant detail, she’d be sticking around whether Regina likes it or not.

 

 

           


End file.
